


The Lady of Letters

by nicolewouldnot



Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Becoming Jane (2007)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It of Sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:23:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 29,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5130854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicolewouldnot/pseuds/nicolewouldnot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever wondered what would have become of Jane Austen and her writing if she had continued her love affair with Tom Lefroy? I have. Follow me on my journey of weaving the imaginary tale of a life that could have been</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Introduction**

_Have you ever wondered what would have become of Jane Austen and her writing if she had continued her love affair with Tom Lefroy? I have. Follow me on my journey of weaving the imaginary tale of a life that could have been._   
_My story begins in the long lonely hours at Steveton after the failed elopement. Our Jane is trying to comfort herself with the knowledge that she did the honorable thing by releasing him. Her family and friends are trying to comfort the shell of the lively girl they once knew._   
_How will Jane write of the heart when her own is sorely broken?_   
_Will lost love hold her back?_   
_Is it really lost?_   
_Follow along as what was once thought lost is found again in the guise of a hasty letter. After all, Jane received the title of "The Lady of Letters" for a reason. That reason is just more interesting than you think._

 

 

The slow, melodic strain of a familiar tune drifted through her head. It was the same song she and Tom had danced to at Lady Gresham's ball. It had been many months since that night but the memories were still as fresh as ever. As she walked slowly along her path through the wood she thought back to that night. The way his eyes had met hers in the dance was a moment she would never forget. The late afternoon sun flitted across the trees lightly, illuminating something here and hiding other things there. The weather was mild and the breeze pleasing but it affected Jane little. This place that had once been a beautiful sanctuary for her was now only a palpable reminder of him.

Tentatively she reached out and touched the rough bark of the tree he had pushed her hastily against the day he had come back to her. Her fingers stung from touching such a physical reminder of that day, of that intimate embrace. It seemed to hold his essence, kept his heartbeat. For it certainly did not belong to her. She had hurt and disappointed him. No matter how it pained her, she knew it had been the right decision. Jane was no longer a sentimental young girl. She had loved as violently as any heart could dare. The feelings she shared with Tom were not the silly infatuation of youth, but a strong mature affection. Loving another in that way was rare and seemed to require a heavy payment. Jane had indeed paid with her happiness in exchange for his and his families. She told herself once again that it was noble, as she wiped the tears from her cheeks and headed towards home.

  
"You should not go there so often," Cassandra said as she walked through the door.

Her sister's voice was soft with concern, but try as she might Jane could not rally her spirits enough to reassure her. Instead she offered Cassie a small smile before heading to the kitchen in search of some employment. She didn't want to think any longer. Without a strong will to check them, her thoughts would be with him constantly. She would wonder endlessly where he was and what he was doing. Was he content? Did he ever think on her?

  
"Back from your walk already?" Mrs. Austen asked her daughter from behind a large pot of stew.

It was still unusual for her to witness Jane enter the kitchen with the intent to be of service. Jane had always despised housework and shirked it whenever she could in favor of reading or working on her stories. Since the unfortunate incident Mrs. Austen had not seen her daughter so dedicated to her chores.

  
"My energy was not what it usually is today." Jane explained.

Her mother gave her a knowing look before handing her an apron from the rack. Jane took it, grateful for her mother’s tact at present. The whole of her family in fact, had been very generous in their treatment of her and her ill spirits. She had put them all in a difficult situation, yet they offered no censure or condescension. In the weeks following her failed elopement the family strayed little into society; Jane even less. This was a strain to Mrs. Austen who was by nature a social creature. With Lady Gresham's disapproval of Jane and the impossibility of meeting the Lefroy's without awkwardness for any forcible time, their engagements had been limited.

  
Jane was sure that her family had no doubt heard news of Tom, considering word spread quickly in Hampshire, but she bid them never to tell her. For had it not been Henry and Eliza who brought the news of his engagement and subsequent visit to the area? Jane had decided she never wanted to hear news like that again, especially from those she loved.

  
"Dinner is nearly ready child," her mother spoke softly. "Why don't you go and rest for a while, maybe write for a bit?"

  
"Mum," Jane replied giving her mother a resigned look, which Mrs. Austen pointedly ignored. Jane shuffled a few bowls around needlessly before giving up and retiring to her room.

  
"Would that I could," she spoke to herself while looking down upon her folio.

Her hand ached for her pen, but she was at a loss for words. She had tried to write a few times since the incident but every time the words flowed, they were about Tom. As beautiful as the descriptions of him were that she conjured, she would not disgrace herself by keeping them. Every line went to the fire. While Jane wanted to destroy all that reminded her of her lost love, Cassandra held ever thing of Roberts close to her heart. When she was sure of being left alone for a few hours she would take out his letters and read them over. Cassie was never one for public displays, so when Jane would hear her sister's soft cries she made sure to never disturb her.  
It had been Cassandra's great influence and tender friendship that Jane relied upon most. Whenever she felt a fit of great sorrow coming on she would think of Cassie and her modest grieving. It seemed that Jane had finally learned to hold her tongue, and her emotions in check. Feeling tired from her walk and heavy thoughts she lay across her bed. Closing her eyes she hummed a tune to herself before drifting into a deep slumber. She dreamt of being lost in a dark wood, and all the terror that would supply. Tossing and turning she called out in her sleep for what she did not know.

  
"Jane," a faraway voice called. "Wake up."

  
Her eyelids fluttered open and she saw the concerned face of her sister. Cassandra had rushed urgently to Jane's side when she heard her cries and almost forgot about the letter she had brought up with her.

  
"Are you alright?" She asked sincerely, touching her forehead to check for fever. Thankfully she was not over warm.

  
Jane sat up and smoothed her hair back. "A bad dream that is all," she said.

  
"Well in that case I shall give you what I came in search of you for originally." Jane wondered what she was getting at.

  
"Smith came in with the evening post a few minutes ago and it contained something for you." Cassandra held the square letter out to her. How odd it was for her to receive something in the evening post. She hoped it was not urgent news of some calamity.  
She turned the letter over in her hand and saw that it was indeed addressed to a Miss. Jane Austen. The sender was a Mr. L. Thomas. Jane did not know this name at all and wondered if it could be some sort of mistake.

  
"Do you know who this is from? She asked her sister.

  
"Not a clue. Why don't you open it and find out," she suggested.

  
The wax seal broke easily seeing as how the letter was put together in a dodgy way. The addresser must have been in some hurry. Jane's heart stopped as she began to read the words.

  
_My dearest Jane,_

  
_This letter must come to you as quite a shock but I could contain myself no longer. How long has it been since I last beheld your beautiful form? I have not accepted your goodbye. I cannot, will not. You must know that I am a man of my word. When I swore to you that I would not give you up I meant it. I never shall._  
_Even if you only live in my memories from this day forward I will be true._  
_Tell me you think of me._

  
_Tom_

  
It was a good thing Jane happened to be sitting on her bed. Because in spite of her never being prone to theatrics the contents of the mysterious letter so astonished that she nearly fainted. Cassandra watched, as her sister's face became shocked and excited. This letter began to worry her.

  
"My dear Jane what is it?" She asked in haste. The answer was the farthest thing from what she was expecting.

  
"Tom." Jane replied.


	2. Two

Jane could feel her breath leave her as she read his words, and they were his no doubt. What was this? She wondered looking at the letter in her hands. What did this mean?

"My dear Jane what is it?"

She heard Cassie ask beside her and knew she must speak. But what to say? She could barely form her thoughts let alone communicate them to another.

"Tom"

She gave the only answer she could. How that name rolled from her tongue easily. Even though she had not spoken it since the day she left him at the carriage house.

"What do you mean?" Cassandra asked, unsure of the connection between the mysterious letter and Mr. Lefroy.

"The letter," Jane spoke in a breathy whisper.

"He has written to me."

Cassandra was all astonishment. Was this good news? She wondered.

"Have his circumstances changed? Is that why he has written?"

Jane was wondering the same thing. She began to reread the letter, slower this time. He had addressed her as dearest; she felt her heart flutter at the remembrance of hearing herself thus called by him once before. The body of his letter was determined and very passionate. Much like himself. Jane wanted to give some reassurance to her sister but would need a deal of time to right herself and her feelings. But time for reflection was not to be had.

"Jane, Cassie," They heard their mother call.

"Come down, dinner is ready."

Jane gave her sister a look of panic. She could not bear the thought of the others hearing of this. At least not yet, it would be too much in one evening. Sensing her sisters fears as well as she would her own Cassandra moved quickly to comfort.

"We need not speak of it. I told no one of the letter before bringing it, for which I am now extremely grateful." She took the letter from Jane's hands and folded it quickly before sliding it into a drawer.

"We must go down to dinner or else we raise suspicions. Are you well enough to attempt it?" Jane gave a thankful look to her sister and nodded in agreement.

Downstairs in the dining room Mr. and Mrs. Austen were already seated next to one another, as was their usual custom in the privacy of their home. As the number of their children suggested; theirs was a happy and felicitous marriage. But their situation in life had become a great strain. Things were worse now that Jane had turned down her great suitor and poor Richards’ untimely demise. It could have been the pressing financial strain that allowed them both to turn a blind eye to the escapades of Henry and Eliza. For they knew their son was a sensible man and Eliza was sincere in her affections. Her fortune would also supply for his needs quite well. They just needed to get them to the church.

Cassandra and Jane went down to diner wearing forced smiles. The former took on the occupation of guiding the conversation so as to draw unnecessary attention away from Jane, who was very thankful for her sister’s interference. Jane felt her stomach contract as she stared at her plate in despondency. The need to run and read his words again fought with her sense of prudence. She couldn't very well run out of the room like a spoilt child. Though she could stomach no food she meticulously sliced and quartered her meat and sipped her wine intermittently.

"What has you looking so ill?" Mrs. Austen questioned when she perceived her daughters countenance.

She was used to seeing her Jane in less than lively spirits but at the moment she looked quite grave. When she did not immediately answer, her father began to wonder as well.

"Are you unwell Jane?"

"Jane is feeling rather tired," Cassandra answered for her.

"I can account for her having not slept well last night. Where is Henry?" She asked once again trying to divert her parent’s conversation. Her camaraderie with Jane could afford nothing less.

"Oh Jane," her mother clucked. "You must go to bed as soon as you finish your meal."

Eliza deftly reading the room as she was want to do, and realizing that for some reason Jane was not in the mood to talk, turned and answered Cassandra.

"My little pug, you see, had gotten away from me when I was walking earlier this evening."

Though the case was true, her attention, as well as Henry's had been occupied too long, giving the little animal a chance to wander far. Poor Henry was now, for the cause of love, scouring the immediate countryside in search of the pet. The rest of the meal passed with little conversation and even that was mild and unassuming. Jane thought of the letter constantly and was thankful for her mother’s insistence that she retire to her bed. She walked quickly up the stairs, and after closing the door of her room, went straight to the drawer that held the letter. She unfolded it and read the words again.

So he still loves me, she thought. She could well believe it; her love was still the same. Though as far as she could tell nothing had changed. His uncle was not likely to alter his position on their union. His exclamations of devotion pleased her none the less. He must not be engaged to another then. With a finger she touched the letter and traced the words. His hands had been here. Before her sister or good sense caught up with her she pulled out pen and paper. Refusing to meditate on her words she let them flow freely onto the page.

_Dear Tom,_

_I am sorry, my dear friend that my word couldn't last as long as yours. When you asked me if I was sure on that fateful morning my answer was truthful. Do you despise me for being inconstant in my opinion? I must assure you again that is was with the greatest intentions and love for yourself, which I could but see no other way. I shall think of you always and fondly._

_Yours in affection though not in life,_

_~Jane_

As soon as her name was signed she jumped up from her seat and paced the room. Could she send it? Would she? Cassandra wondered the same when she entered the room and saw Jane's writing supplies out on the table.

"You will reply?" She asked.

Jane looked up at her but quickly continued her pacing.

"Yes," she began. "No, oh I don't know Cassie."

Jane was in a mood, wringing her hands, and rubbing her eyes. She stopped her pacing suddenly and gave her sister a wild look.

"Tell me what I should do?" She begged Cassie.

At present she could not make the decision for herself. For her feelings were flying this way and that, almost hysterical, she could not trust herself. Being the calm and reasonable creature that she was, Cassandra took her agitated sister by the hand and led her to the bed. Once they were both settled and comfortable, she gave the best advice she could.

"Was he writing to inform you of his attentions being possible?"

"No," Jane spoke sadly.

"The material circumstances have not changed. But neither have his feelings."

"Jane, please do not take offense, but have you considered a secret engagement? Could you two not wait some years, until his Uncle may be prevailed upon or his circumstances in the world become greater?"

"Cassie," Jane spoke quite astonished. "You surprise me with your talk of secrets. Is that your council?"

It seemed so far out of her sisters usual opinions. But Cassandra meant what she proposed. Having lived through the loss of her own love, she would support her sister in her own. That early morning when she chanced upon Jane in the act of fleeing she was at first appalled. But when Jane asked if she would consider the same thing, an elopement, if it meant that she could be with Richard; nothing had ever rung more true.

"Others have done it. If neither of you wants to sever the connection then why not wait. What is there to lose? For Mr. Lefroy, I'm sure is under no pressure from his Uncle to marry, seeing how the old man is unmarried himself. Materially Jane, it would be wise for you or even I to marry, but I doubt either of us will ever have the inclination."

Jane took every one of her sister’s words into consideration. Her heart screamed yes but her mind was less sure. Why could things not be simple? You fall in love then get married, why should that be so hard?

"Why must life be so complicated for us?" Jane moaned falling back onto the bed.

"I wish I could tell you. The world is not a fair place I fear." Cassandra laid down next to her sister like they used to when they were children. She stroked her hair in a comforting way.

"At least we will always have each other." Jane whispered.

"Yes we will. But Jane, you have not lost Tom. Not entirely."

"No, not entirely." Jane conceded.

"But can it work? Would it be worth it for either of us to pine away for something that may never happen?"

"You are pining now Jane, and according to that letter, he is as well."

"So I should send my reply?" Jane asked one more time.

Cassandra wouldn't answer. She knew Jane needed to make this decision on her own. Giving her a penetrating look she asked "Should you?"

"Yes," Jane spoke quickly.

"I think I should."


	3. Three

He jolted upright in his bed. His skin was hot and sweat had dampened his bed clothes. It was the dream again. The same one that had plagued him for months on end. Almost every night she would come to him. Telling him in his ear that she no longer loved him. That she had never loved him because he was wholly unworthy of any love at all. He never saw her face in the dreams but felt her presence and heard her voice; giving rise to every self-doubt he secretly harbored.

Routinely, he got from his bed and went to wash. He noted that his reflection in the mirror was even worse than yesterday. The pain and frustration of losing Jane coupled with the poor sleep he had been getting made him look ten years older. He laughed bitterly when he thought about how far he now was from the preening and prancing of which she had previously accused him.

No, he was not that young man anymore. The realities of life, which he had been so studiously avoiding in his philandering, had finally caught up to him. It weighed heavily, like a brick on his chest. Never was he able to get a deep breath or ease the aching. He had tried no doubt. After his Uncle had refused to consent to his marrying Jane he had tried to revert back into old habits; tried to hide his feelings away with vice. But she would not be repressed in his memory. She was with him as he walked to the court house every morning. She was with him as he spent every night alone.

He dressed in his black coat, as was his usual, and gathered his books. Only half a term left of sitting with the other apprentices before he could take his own entry level position. Any menial law work would be better than sitting under his Uncle day in and day out. He had developed a quiet hatred for the old man that left his insides feeling bitter.

Being the first to arrive, which was also normal for him now, he pulled out his notebook and waited. Allowing his thoughts to drift to Jane as they usually did. What would she be doing now? Writing perhaps or entertaining her family with some wild story. The thoughts almost brought a smile to his lips. But he was forced out of his silent reverie by William nudging his side.

"Wool gathering again Tom?" He spoke far louder than necessary with his breath still smelling of his breakfast.

He gave William Stout the same disinterested look he did every day. Unfortunately it had yet to impress upon him Tom's desire to be left alone. Every day the young man tried to make conversation and every day Tom did his best to ignore him.

"I hear we are actually going to get an interesting case to watch this morning. Apparently first up is a man, who they say murdered his own father so he could inherit sooner. George says the evidence is spotty but I say it'll be interesting all the same."

William droned on and Tom tuned him out. The judge soon entered in all his usual pomp. Months of practice enabled Tom to resist rolling his eyes. But no matter his own feeling on his Uncles prejudices the man was undoubtedly an excellent judge. The poor bastard up first was lucky to have him and not one of the others. His uncle had a general inclination towards those of the land class.

The day wore on and Tom studiously took down the judiciary notes, and spoke to the other men when absolutely necessary. The gossip among the other apprentices, and if Tom was honest, a wide range of people from his former social circle, was that the Miss Waxford had broken his heart, left him shamed and in all regards singularly put out.

He would never bother to correct them. The ill-conceived engagement was swiftly ended when her family heard of his failed elopement. Obviously, and for that Tom was forever grateful. Explaining the situation to the judge was punishment enough. The thought of having to explain to the poor girl that he had used her, gave him the chills. There was no end apparently, in his mistakes. Since then he had promised himself that he would be the only party to suffer from his folly.

Once again alone in his rooms his eyes immediately fell to the pen and paper that sat in disarray on his desk. He hadn't dared to touch the things since he wrote that letter to her in a fit of midnight madness. The dreams had been particularly bad last week and he finally broke down, needing to reach out to her for reassurance. For some reason his heart needed to hear of her love for him in order to keep beating. Knowing the hour for dinner was approaching he forbade himself from thinking on it any longer. He knew that her reaction to the letter wouldn't be good. It was wrong of him to send it and put her in the uncomfortable situation. But what is done, is done.

He allowed himself a quick drink before heading down to his daily trial. Dinner with the old man was something he couldn't weasel his way out of. It was also the most trying time of the day. Perhaps that was why he had been getting steadily thinner. Food was much less appetizing when swallowed with heaping doses of recrimination.

"Nephew," he acknowledged him before taking his customary seat at the head of the table. Tom didn't respond knowing that his conversation wasn't required yet.

They both finished the meal in silence. The food was bland in Tom's mouth but the setting was even worse. The weight of the depression he had slipped into was heavier tonight.

"I have good news Thomas," his uncle spoke breaking the delicate silence they had nurtured all these months. He couldn't remember the last time they had an actual conversation in this room. Unwillingly his eyes moved to the chair Jane had sat in on her one visit. She had looked so beautiful in the soft candle light standing up to the old man in her own unique way. God, how he just missed her.

"About?" he asked.

Tom couldn't bring himself to soften the sarcastic tone of his question. His Uncle noticed and fixed him with a glare. But surprisingly didn't comment.

"You have," he began in a reluctant voice, "managed to bring your performance up considerably in your studies."

Tom knew that he must have hated to give his insolent nephew anything that even remotely resembled praise.

"Thank you Uncle."

"No don't thank me yet." He said with a way of his hand. "That was not my news."

Both men took a long drink of their wine. Tom couldn't find it within himself to wonder what his Uncle would say next.

"In light of your – better performance, I am now able, without appearing partial, to keep you on as my personal apprentice. You are no doubt surprised, I am equally surprised as well. I did not think you would ever prove yourself worthy. But I am not so set in my ways that I cannot be proved wrong, even when the likelihood was so very slim."

Tom didn't say anything for a long time. He just stared at his faint reflection in the highly polished wood of the table. This was not what he wanted to hear. It was not what he wanted in life. He wondered if it mattered though. He had given up the hope of ever being truly happy. That would be impossible without his Jane. But the one consolation he had was his continued responsibility to his family. Working directly under the High Court Judge would recommend him much more earnestly then he could on his own. He would no doubt, rise faster and the money would be far superior.

It was exactly what someone in his career would wish for. His rational, sound mind could not deny any of these things. His feelings were less obliging though. He hated that man. Wanted continually to run, get as far away from the one person who had held him under their thumb. Tom resented being controlled. 'Could he continue on in the same way?' He asked himself.

Now was not the time for introspection though. He would have to answer before his silence was taken for disrespect which would inevitably lead to a row.

"That is most generous of you Uncle."

"I know," the old man drawled seeming to require a more specific response from his quite nephew.

"I would be honored to hold the position." Tom lied through his teeth, but knew that anything less would be considered unacceptable to his Uncle.

"At the end of your reviews you will begin immediately with my office. Of course you will continue to live here at Bond Street. That is unless you have any more romantic notions of marriage."

The old man sneered the word. Tom felt his anger begin to boil. He was mocking him, wanting to get a rise, but he would not give him the pleasure.

"No," he responded coolly despite his irritation. "Of course not."

Tom had stormed back to his rooms in such a state that the lone servant he meet in the hall immediately stopped what they were doing and went back the way they had come. Brandy in hand he paced back and forth in his room.

The familiar frustration pulsing through his veins making him jumpy. He would find a way to resign himself, he had to. Unless he could think of a way to get out of the old man's offer.

"There is no use," he groaned before refilling his glass.

He wouldn't mind getting abhorrently drunk tonight. He didn't usually indulge to such excess but the time seemed right.

After an hour or so of drinking and brooding he was feeling the effect. Another glass and he would be ready to fall into his bed. Undressing down to his pants and shirttails he went to extinguish the candles. Before he could vanquish himself to the darkness there was a low knock at his door.

"What do you want," he growled as he wretched the door open.

The poor serving girl shrunk back at his tone. He was too far gone in his dark mood to care.

"Sir, you...you..." she stuttered, "forgot your post." She thrust the letters at him before dipping a low curtsy and hurrying away.

He shook his head as he closed the door and retreated back into the nearly dark room. He took the letters to the one candle still lit and fingered through them quickly. A letter from his mother that could wait until tomorrow and a few general invitations to some gathering or other. His vision was getting blurry and he swayed a little on his feet. The spirits taking a stronger hold. He put the last one, a small thing closer to the light to read the address. His heart instantly stopped when he saw the feminine script. He tore the letter open, daring to hope that it was what he thought it could be. He quickly glanced over the text before settling on the name of the sender.

"Jane" he declared into to the darkness before sinking back onto his bed and allowing himself to fall into a fitful sleep.


	4. Four

The air still held its early morning crispness as Jane and Cassandra set off on the familiar walk to Overton. They kept a leisurely pace down the lane, past the giant yew tree and through the little village of Steventon. They were both avid walkers and took the opportunity to visit the small shops and friends they had in the area as often as they could. Although recent circumstances being what they were, they had neglected this walk for some time.

This morning though, the usual pleasure of the experience was heightened, for Jane especially. Of course the excuse for the trip had been to pick up some odds and ends they knew their mother needed, but in actuality it was the post that called to them. Knowing it would be hard to keep anyone else from noticing Jane's letters from Mr. Lefroy, they decided to head out early to get the mail themselves. Hopefully avoiding any uncomfortable questions.

They narrowly managed to avoid Eliza this morning but only because she seemed to need more sleep than the others. Cassandra and Jane both loved their cousin but she seemed in some way spiteful of Jane's misfortunes. She would not be a part of this new development.

Jane was pleasantly surprised to find she was enjoying the errand. A smile graced her full lips for more than just the prospect of a letter from Tom. It had been ages since she felt free enough to enjoy herself outside of the home. She had timed this trip for the exact amount of days it would take for her letter to reach him and for his to follow, if he wrote back within a day. As foolish as she knew it was, she believed he would.

"It's a beautiful morning isn't it?" Cassandra asked her in a wistful tone.

"Yes," Jane replied quietly. There was little need for conversation and they both enjoyed the pleasure of companionable silence.

Cassandra watched her sister's face for any signs of discomfort. Jane was proud and wouldn't allow others to see it, but she knew that it was hard for her to ignore the stares and comments about her failed attachment. Church had been tense but not altogether uncomfortable. This outing would be different though. It was likely they would see and make conversation with the people they had both been studiously avoiding.

It was time though, to get on with it. They couldn't hide forever. Loping her arm though her sisters she decided that if Jane could smile, so could she.

A smile, a few waves, and a simple good morning were all the attentions that had so far been required of her. Jane could feel the relief radiating out of her sister as they made their way through Overton unencumbered. There were people about but the early hour was in their favor. Of the people they had seen none had been of their particular acquaintance.

Jane could feel herself getting almost giddy as they walked up to the Lamppost Inn. A particularly tired looking older gentleman kindly held the door for them as they entered. She wished she had held her breath when she passed his raised arm. By the look Cassandra gave her she knew her sister was thinking the same thing.

The Lamppost was the closet Inn outside of Basingstoke and served many a purpose for the surrounding villagers. The most important to Jane at the moment was that they collected the post before it was sent farther out. In the dim light she could see that there were a few lonely looking travelers eating at the rough wooden tables with a serving girl flitting between them quite gracefully, depositing plates of food and mugs of ale.

At the scent Jane's stomach lurched. She had been too excited to eat any breakfast this morning. Now she wished she had at least grabbed something small to tide her over.

"Can I help you?"

The sisters turned to the large woman who had called out to them. She was sitting behind a long dingy counter that ran the length of the room.

"Yes you can," Jane said walking over to her. "Were here to pick up the post." She tried to sound determined even though she had never done this before. She gave the woman what she attempted to be a friendly smile; it went unreturned.

"Name?" the woman asked in sharp tones.

"Austen," Jane and Cassandra answered at the same time.

The woman gave them both a shrewd look.

"We always send a rider out with your letters and now you're picking them up here. Is this going to be a permanent change?"

"No," Jane said quickly but then on further thought continued. "Unless someone comes in the morning to collect them please continue to have them sent on."

"I'll make a note of it. One minute please."

The woman ducked down and seemed to be looking for something. Jane could feel her heart sputter with anticipation. But what if it wasn't there? Her anticipation quickly turned to dread but then just as quickly went back to excitement.

"Ah, here we are." The woman said coming up with a short stake of letters.

Cassandra watched her sister squirm and fidget as the proprietor's wife looked for their mail. If she didn't know better shed think her sister was in a snit. Jane's rushed words and harsh expression were no doubt the reason for the woman's own curt behavior. What her poor Jane must be feeling. The smile she tried to give earlier was almost laughable. As the women held the letters out Jane didn't move. She just stood their staring at them.

Cassandra quickly grabbed a coin from her purse and laid it on the counter.

"Thank you," she said taking the letters. The woman nodded before going back to her work.

"Let's go," she said softly, taking her sister arm and leading her out of the Inn.

Jane followed obediently until the bright morning light hit her eyes and she squinted with the contrast from the dark Inn. It was enough to wake her from her self-imposed stupor. Turning quickly to her sister she reached out for the letters, but quickly thought better of it and dropped her hand.

"You look." She said closing her eyes and taking a deep steadying breath. Part of her knew she would laugh at her behavior later on, at the moment though she was content to act like a silly over emotional girl.

She opened her eyes to her sisters smiling face. It couldn't be bad news then. Without a word Cassandra handed her the small square of parchment. For a minute she allowed herself to run her fingers along the paper and admire her name written in his strong script. How could receiving a letter be so pleasurable? She hadn't even read it yet.

At that thought she looked around and remembered they were standing on a busy street and no doubt attracting the attention of the local gossips. She tucked the letter safely away in her purse. She would just have to wait until they got home to read it.

"Come on Cassie," she said taking her arm and turning immediately back the way they came. Cassandra didn't argue but instantly knew that they would be walking much faster home then they did coming.

Cassandra kept up with her sisters determined strides even though she was feeling winded. Jane was in a hurry to get home and read her letter. She couldn't begrudge her that. They were almost home when they turned onto the lane that led through Steventon and saw something that was destined to hold them up.

Mrs. and Miss Smith were standing outside their cottage saying their hellos to anyone passing by. Why had she not thought of them? Jane knew they came out every morning in search of company, and yet she had forgotten that they would most likely run into them on their way back home.

"There will be no avoiding it now," Cassandra whispered, "they've seen us."

"We shall just have to be polite and do our best to extricate ourselves before dinner time." Jane replied jokingly to her sister. Cassandra was right, there was nothing to be done about it now.

"Ah," Miss Smith called out, "if it isn't the Miss Austen's. How wonderful to see you this morning. I was just saying to mama that it had been many weeks since we've had your company. No illnesses I hope?"

"Oh but of course not," she continued not waiting for an answer. "I would have heard from Mr. Jenson if anyone of our acquaintance was unwell. He comes quite regular you know, to see mama. But don't trouble yourselves with worry she is quite healthy."

"That is good to hear. Your garden is looking lovely." Cassandra said by way of a diversion before Miss. Smith could continue.

"Oh yes. But come and see the roses." She said before walking to the side of the cottage leaving her mother to stand and stare at seemingly nothing. Cassandra and Jane followed knowing this was a regular occurrence. Mrs. Smith was practically blind and almost deaf.

Unfortunately neither Jane nor Cassandras compliments to her garden could distract her for long.

"Oh what am I prattling on about now, you must come in and take tea with us." Miss Smith said exactly what Jane was hoping she wouldn't.

"Do not you think so Mama?" She called loudly.

"We would not wish to impose on you. We were not expected." Jane rushed trying to avoid accepting the invitation. Which was in the end, futile.

After much fussing from Miss Smith and many pointed glances between Jane and Cassandra they were all seated in the small sitting room of the Smith's cottage drinking their tea and making conversation. Jane let Cassandra carry most of the formal conversation topics while she tried to keep herself from eating more cakes than was proper for an afternoon tea. Once again she wished she had taken breakfast.

Her purse, which contained Tom's letter, sat squarely in her lap. She tried her best but couldn't help staring at it. It felt as if it would burn a hole through her skirts. Drifting from the conversation she found her self-wondering what he had written. She tried to picture him writing it. Would he be serious and passionate as his fist letter suggested? Or was he more composed when he wrote this? The romantic part of her hoped it was the former. She wanted him to be just as affected as she was.

"Jane," she heard someone call her name and was instantly brought out of her daydreams.

"Forgive me, I'm feeling a bit tired this morning." She tried to explain.

"Are you sure you are not unwell? You look rather flushed." Miss Smith asked with concern written on her face.

"Should I get you a glass of wine?"

"No thank you, I am fine. It has been a while since I took such a long walk. I fear I have overexerted myself."

Miss Smith set her cup down and peered at her in a strange way. Jane knew that whatever she was going to say next, she wouldn't like.

"I have to tell you Miss Austen, you are very brave. Very brave indeed, showing such a strong face after the – incident. Mama and I knew that young man must have used you very ill indeed. And anyone who would look down on you because of it is not worth your time. Your true friends will stand by you, do not worry about that."

Jane could feel her face going white with those words. This was not something she wanted, or even expected to hear. Although it was better than the snide remarks she knew would eventually come her way, this somehow seemed worse. Because in the eyes of the neighborhood spinster she saw pity. Jane felt anger and embarrassment in equal measure.

"That is very kind of you to say but I'm sure neither Jane nor I have any comment on that account." Cassandra said coolly. She knew she needed to get Jane out of there. Miss Smith meant well but the condescension was too much to bear at the moment.

Miss Smith had the decency to look rebuked and kept quiet. Cassandra knew from experience though that it wouldn't last long.

"Thank you so much for having us, but I fear I must get Jane home now. She is excessively tired at the moment. Please feel free to return the call when you are available."

Jane and Cassandra stood quickly and made their goodbyes to the women.

"Feel better dear. Call for Mr. Jenson if you have need." They heard Miss Smith call out to them as they walked toward home. Neither of them turned to look though.

Jane was incredibly thankful that her sister had gotten them out of there so quickly but wasn't ready to put words to her gratitude yet. She was lost in the maelstrom of her emotions. To be so happy at the prospect of reading the letter from Tom and then to be humiliated with the reminder of their foolish actions was more than she could process.

By God she loved him, but her throat burned with the embarrassment of having been pitied by that insufferable woman. She had a foreboding feeling of dread as the stopped and stood at the gate of her home. Could continuing her relationship with Tom bring anything other than ruin? For a minute she didn't know.

"Go read your letter." Cassie said softly in her ear before leading her over the makeshift bench by the road.

"I'll see you inside." She said before turning towards the house.

Jane sat there very still for a minute before taking out the letter and studying it again. She shook her heard in confusion before opening it to read.

Dearest Jane,

How I wish I had the command of words as you do. I do not think my meager attempt to describe the feelings I had when I received your letter would do your descriptive sensibilities justice. Let me just say that it was an experience I sincerely hope is repeated.

_Honestly, I had been angry and disappointed with myself for writing to you in the first place. If I were a better man with stronger convictions I would leave you be. But I am selfish; as you well know by now. At present you will find that my thoughts have been only of my own misery. You and your own good nature are much better off without my interference._

_Yet, as I said before, I cannot - will not - let you go. I may be corruptible and disillusioned but I am constant. My one virtue you could say. Let that be my defense in what I am selfishly going to ask of you._

_Wait for me Jane, please. I have not even begun to think practically, but I know myself and I will wait for you until the end. But know that I would not begrudge you if you choose not to honor my request. I know how much I am asking of you._

_Write to me again; let me know your thoughts as I wish you to know mine. I will go uncertain of my fate until I hear from you again._

_Tom_

And with his words her confusion was gone. Their love could never be anything other than right, other than perfect.


	5. Five

_Dearest Tom,_

_I received your letter this morning and I have only now had the opportunity to sit and pen this response; it is well after midnight._

_I know you shall not be surprised, shrewd and observing as you are, when I tell you that our most beloved Henry has finally mustered the courage to make his intentions towards Eliza known to his family._

_I_ _know what you are thinking and I agree. It took him long enough. Of course mother and father are in a bit of an uproar._

_I do suppose though that they are not as surprised as they seem. You would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to not see their attachment to each other._

_Poor George has been asking me for weeks now when they would marry._

_I confess I am impatient for that day as well. The removal of the two most, how shall I say it, expensive members of the household will bring much relief to my father._

_We shall all benefit from their union, and in more ways than one._

_Cassandra and I firmly believe that things at Steventon will settle into a peaceful familial environment when the passionate and, dare I say, indecorous, lovers are removed from the confines of this house._

_Father will once again have the quiet he needs for his sermons and mother will have much less to plague her nerves._

_Although it may leave her feeling bereft of excitement. Especially since she has come to admit defeat in the prospect of marrying off her daughters. She doesn't seem to be able to bring herself to hope that Cassandra will ever forget Mr. Fowl and my inability to marry anyone is quite fixed in her mind._

_I am happy of it. Ever since the horrors of the great lady, whose name we both know but shall not speak, and the insufferable Mr. Warren, I feel incapable of handling any addresses to myself with any more grace than one would show a lame animal._

_Somedays_ _I imagine I should like a gun. So I could put them out of their misguided romantic misery._

_I cannot deny that I am thankful that my charms were enough to attract your attention but if one more man declares his love me for me I will pull my hair out while screaming a litany of improper words._

_But back to your letter. I fear, dear friend, that when you praise my descriptive sensibilities you are under a misapprehension. I suffer from an overindulgence of adjectives. Which as any good writer knows is often as crippling to the expression of true feelings than that of a lacking prose. Honest sentiments are often best conveyed with poignant brevity._

_Although I must confess it is a skill which I do not possess; as you will no doubt become painfully aware of now that you have received my letters._

_I could of course go on and on about the subject of myself and my many talents, or as the case is in this letter; the lack thereof, but it will only be to delay writing the inevitable._

_I have thought for many hours on how I would word my response to your question. Alas wit and flowery words fail me and I can only answer yes. Yes I shall wait for you, my only love, until the day comes that we can be together._

_Because as you so aptly put it once before, 'what value will there be in life if we are not together'?_

_So let my answer be the end to all your talk of selfishness and self-recriminations. For if you are selfish than so am I; and selfishness must always be forgiven, for there is no hope of a cure._

_Yours with unending love, Jane_


	6. Six

_Jane,_

_How is it you so easily know my mind?_

_You are completely correct in my response to the news of Henry's engagement. It is about time. I had wondered how long it would take for Madam de Feuillideto make an honest man out of him._

_Tell me, has he secured his captaincy? It is nice to hear that they will be happy._

_I know it is quite morose of me to comment, but someone should be. Not that I am completely miserable anymore. Reading your letters has not only soothed my poor pathetic heart but they have become quite entertaining. Your description on how you would like to reject your numerous suitors was... enlightening._

_Rest assured my love that when we are married, and if we aren't completely decrepit and infirm at such a point, you shall have your gun. If only to save myself the unpleasant task of chasing off your wayward paramours._

_You will probably chastise me greatly for saying this but I had the most delightful image of your pretty little mouth forming words you shouldn't be allowed to know. Terrible of me I know, but I must stay true to my character. I will not take offense if you were to write me back with the most scaling insult to my poor character._

_Actually I would quite enjoy it._

_You see there is little else to occupy my thoughts but you these days. I have had the great misfortune to fall into my Uncles good graces, which for the life of me I can't imagine how I managed it. The result of said misfortune is that I am forced to spend more time with him than any sensible person would allow. He has taken me under his proverbial wing and I am now working in his office under his most officious care._

_Pity me my love._

_Enough though of my omnipresent woes; how is your writing? Does anything your working on have a pretentious Irishman of dubious intent wreaking havoc upon the unsuspecting country populous? If not then I am deeply disappointed. I might not be good for much but even I know that I would be good literary fodder. Your stories must have a devilishly handsome rake._

_Jane, how I miss you. Reading your letters has been like a sweet torture. I love to read your words but they leave me longing to hear your voice._

_I am not sure that I am adequately explaining myself. I would say that I pine for you but that is far too prosaic for me. I hope you get the gist of what I'm trying to convey in regards to my feelings._

_Part of me is elated at your answer. That little yes meant more to me than you will ever know. Yet the more sensible part of me is constantly aware that I may be holding you to a fools promise._

_What if things do not change?_

_Can I live with myself if I make you wait year after year before you can claim your place by my side?_

_This whole situation is very frustrating. Although until a few short weeks ago it was even worse. At least I am secure in your love and affection._

_How quickly I forget that it has been given to me so undeservedly._

_You must forgive my depressing correspondence this time. I fear that I am not well suited for waiting. Patience has never been one of my virtues._

_Yet I hope that like my selfishness it can be forgiven. Because I fear that when the waiting is for something as cherished as you, I shall never be patient._

_Yours, Tom_

_P.S. I hope you realize that I expect an immediate response to the following question. What happened with that imbecile Warren?_


	7. Seven

_My Dear Tom,_

_I see that you have not lost any of your wickedness. Not even in light of your present good behavior. I'm glad of it. Although I am practically scandalized by the inner workings of your mind, well almost anyway. But if you are very good I may oblige you at some point in the future. Rest assured Mr. Lefroy that while I probably shouldn't know any number of words I am more than apt at pronouncing them._

_One of the best things about having you back in my life, even if it is only partially, is the ability to allow my own wicked nature an outlet. Poor Cassandra has to put up with my foul moods and temper more than she should and my sardonic sense of humor is by far too much for her. But you my friend seem to have the constitution necessary to be a companion to one such as myself. Do you consider yourself lucky? I most certainly do; a husband who will provide me a gun, how scandalous!_

_Well, on to the more serious topics of conversation. I am sorry that you are not enjoying your employment at present. If it is any conciliation I have not written much since my last trip to London. Your excuse though is far more tangible than mine. The dour Judge must be a very difficult person to work with, especially considering you live with him as well. You are brilliant though Tom, and I don't pay the compliment lightly. I have every confidence that you will work the situation to the best of your ability. You must also have the same faith in me. I confess that my hiatus from my writing has come to an end but I am almost afraid to continue. I find myself in a more complex mental and emotional state; I almost don't know how to channel it. My only hope is that I will be able to bring a greater depth and maturity to my work that I will admit had been lacking before. Cross your fingers and I will let you know._

_Unfortunately I do not have any Irish rouges at present in my latest story. But before you begin to feel too put out I will say that there is a character who shares a fair amount a personality traits with yourself. Whether they are the good or bad will be for you to decide when you eventually read it. I think you would enjoy it though._

_Things here have been busier than usual with preparations for the wedding. Henry and Eliza have elected to have father marry them here at Steventon. We were all rather surprised that Eliza didn't want something more refined. Everyone's spirits are higher with such an exciting event on the horizon. Mine might be a little less enthusiastic, but let us keep that between ourselves._

_Henry did purchase his captaincy and after the wedding they will be traveling to Plymouth for his first station. I cannot imagine my cousin aboard a frigate but we all do strange things for love. There has also been talk of letting some fashionable accommodations in town for the season, so we shall see. I so wish you would be able to attend but I know it is quite impossible. The waiting is hard on me as well. I just take care to remind myself daily to be thankful to have your love. It very well may be a few years before we can settle together but I am certain you are worth the wait._

_Finally though we get to your persistent question. What of Mr. Warren? You will have to forgive me for mentioning the situation so offhandedly in my last letter. I had quite forgotten that you did not know the details of that event and how disastrous it was for us both. Let me try and explain._

_Apparently our timid and soft spoken Mr. Warren had been quite in love with me for some time. Terrible, I know. Somehow I seemed to have mistaken his feelings of friendship and never once did I ever entertain the idea that he may have any intentions towards me. Mr. Warren had not been at all happy with our attachment and when presented with the information of our travel to London he took actions that had far reaching consequences. You will no longer be in any doubt of who wrote the Judge that day. I did not have this information until after our failed elopement. Like you I had been under the assumption that the letter had come from or on behalf of Mr. Wisely._

_Now we come to the particular event. The afternoon that I returned home after parting from you at the post station, I was not more than two minutes in the house before Mr. Warren found me. My family had been out looking for me and we were alone. He finally saw his opening and took it. He proceeded to profess his undying love for me and offer me his hand. I believe my last letter gave you an indication on how I felt at that moment. After refusing him as politely as I was able under the circumstances I made to extricate myself from his company. It was then that it suddenly dawned on me. He was the one who wrote the judge._

_I don't know if you will believe it but I almost struck him. Some days I still wish I had. So that my dearest, is the account of the Warren situation. It was most likely one of the worst days of my life. But now I can look back on it with a little humor. It may have been the most frustrating and uncomfortable proposal I have ever received but at least it was ripe with irony. Which I can appreciate in all things._

_Now that I have finally finished that account I must adieu._

_All my love,_

_Jane_


	8. Eight

There are certain days designed by God for weddings. Late summer mornings flooded with pale yellow light. A soft breeze carrying the scent of hundreds of flowers handpicked and arranged to compliment the bride. Eliza was a vision in ivory silk and cascading brunette curls. She had always been beautiful but today she was glorious. Henry was as dashing as ever in his vibrant red regimentals. The pews were packed full and all eyes were drawn to where the bride and groom stood flanked by Jane and Cassandra as the requisite maids. Jane clasped her hands in front of her as the organ music came to a close and her father started the ceremony. She had been to more than her fair share of weddings and contented herself with admiring the general splendor of the day. The words were always the same and her father's voice seemed to tune out into a gentle hum. Her thoughts drifted inevitably to Tom but she knew that she had to keep her feelings in check today, there was too much riding on her performance. Friends and neighbors were all gathered for Henry and Eliza's wedding. It would be the first occasion that she was in company with most of them in months. She would need to be the Jane they all knew before Tom, happy and carefree. The time to hide from their distasteful judgments had passed. It was on her now to prove to them all that she was the same and therefor deserved the same treatment. Taking a quick glance across the church she knew it would be easier said than done.

If she was being honest with herself though only one family really mattered; the Lefroy's. They had been in close company for years and the loss of friendship was a hardship for both families. The situation being what it was, a temporary separation seemed unavoidable. The thought of sitting down to tea with his aunt while she had nothing on her mind but the ladies nephew had seemed daunting. It was avoided for as long as possible. Now was judgment day. Jane smiled at her own maudlin line of thinking. It wasn't really appropriate given the present circumstance. Her brother was getting married for heaven's sake. She should endeavor to be more pleasant.

She reigned in her wandering attention in just in time to see Henry take his bride up into a passionate kiss. Cassandras reproachful expression caught her eye and she chocked back a laugh. Typical. She would have to remember to add that little tid-bit in her next letter. Tom would not doubt find humor in it.

The procession from the church to the wedding luncheon was a swirling mass of music, flowers and well wishes. Jane easily lost herself in the celebratory mood was feeling quite contented. Cassandra was having a more difficult time. She was too good to acknowledge her feelings for what they were. Instead she pushed the deep sadness aside and dwelt on the wonder of the couples love. They were fortunate indeed to not only have found one another but to have attained the status of marriage. Something she knew she would never have within her sights again. It was those thoughts that threatened to keep the joy from her face. She was truly and sincerely happy for her brother. No amount of regret on her part could dim the delight she felt when she looked upon the happy couple. The pain of her loss would always be with her so she endeavored to enjoy herself the only way she knew how.

"Henry is a demonstrative man but did he really need to make such a spectacle?" She spoke low into Jane's ear before turning back to her plate. Her sister's lips turned up into a smirk and she knew she had bated Jane into what would prove to be a most entertaining conversation.

"The kiss. Well I can't say I was surprised. But did you see the look on Miss Smiths face? I do believe between Henry and myself we will completely scandalize the family."

"At least he's finally married." Cassandra quipped mimicking Miss Smiths affected accent.

Jane couldn't hold back her laugh so she tried to quickly disguise it as a cough.

"You are quite humorous today." She said pointedly to her sister.

"I might even venture to say your acting as bad as me."

Jane was pleased to see Cassie in such good humor. She knew the wedding couldn't have been easy for her to experience. Her own memories of Tom were bitter sweet today. How much worse would Cassandra's be for her own lost love?

As in most things of late they stuck close to each other. Each sister knowing what the other was feeling and trying to buoy the other with kind words and actions. Humor seemed to be the balm for the day so they allowed their banter to flow readily throughout the meal. Keeping their comments restricted to those of the party of little consequence and vehemently ignoring the task before them.

The table was full and Mrs. Lefroy was seated at the opposite end of where the Austen family sat. The cake had been cut and passed and the guests were rising to see the couple off. Jane and Cassandra stood arm in arm as Henry and Eliza made their way the waiting carriage. Instead of throwing flower petals they stood quietly by, memorizing the last blissful images of the morning. As the carriage pulled away Jane's nerves reared their ugly head. Her stomach churned and her head began to ache. She wasn't exactly sure when it happened but apparently she had become quite the coward.

Mr. and Mrs. Lefroy began to make their way over to the two young women. Mrs. Lefroy decided not to acknowledge Jane's obvious nervous tension and greeted her warmly.

"It was a lovely wedding. We were so glad to have been included among the guests."

"We were just happy you could join us." Cassandra replied steering the conversation with social pleasantries.

"How have you ladies been this season? We haven't seen much of either of you. I hope that will soon change.

"We have been well, have we not Jane?"

"We have." Jane answered. "I hope we shall see more of you as well Mrs. Lefroy."

The two woman looked at each other in silent acknowledgment of things past, and acceptance of friendship to come. Jane had been so worried that Mrs. Lefoy would hold her responsible for everything that happen with Tom. But it seemed the older woman was willing to look past that and continue their acquaintance in spite of the interlude with her nephew. The information made Jane feel as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"Whenever you ladies and your mother are available next week I hope you will take the time to call. Lucy and I would enjoy catching up with you all."

"That is very kind of you. We will certainly pay the call." Jane gave her a winning smile as a thanks which was returned just as warmly.

Shortly after that the Lefroys drifted away and Jane made easy conversation with the rest of the guests. Most people were as polite as ever with the exception of a few colder greetings. In retrospect though Jane considered the whole event to be a success.

"How do you feel now that it's finally over?" Cassandra asked her as they retired to their room.

The day had been long and tiring with many pent up emotions. But there was a feeling of satisfaction that seemed to settle over the whole house.

"It is a relief," she said settling herself onto the soft mattress. "To finally put myself out among people again. No more pretending." She said while slowly removing the pins from her hair.

"Of course I'm thrilled too that Henry is finally married and settled. One less thing for us to worry about."

"I think I understand exactly what you are saying. It is my hope that things can begin to return to normal."

"It's mine as well. Not that I don't enjoy the Smiths company," she said ruefully.

"But even you, sweet Cassie, have to admit that it would be beneficial to widen our circle of society to something more like it used to be."

Cassandra just smiled at her sister and settled into bed, hoping to find sleep quickly. She knew Jane had received a letter today but hadn't had the chance to read it. She would give her as much privacy as possible, so closed her eyes and willed her body to relax. Maybe she would dream of Robert tonight.

Once Cassandra's breathing evened and slowed, Jane knew it was safe to take out her letter. She had read previous letters in front of her sister but after the long day, she wanted to enjoy Tom's words in solitude, without anyone aware of her expressions and mannerisms. Slipping her finger under the wax seal she broke it swiftly and silently unfolded the letter. She was instantly disappointed to see that the page contained only a few lines. A disheartening number of words compared to his usual correspondence. Though her irritation instantly turned to excitement as she read.

_Jane,_

_Forgive me for this hasty letter but my time is not my own at present. All I can say at the moment is that in a weeks' time I should be able to write again in a longer and more detailed account of my days. But hold out a little longer, for the next letter should have great news._

_I love you my dear,_

_Tom_

What could this great news be? Knowing Tom it could mean any number of things. Once again Jane resigned herself to waiting. Patience was something she was beginning to have in abundance.


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any names you did not already recognize are my creations. I will say though that they are meant to be a sort of caricature of some of the characters in Jane's stories. It's my attempt to show some possible sources of inspiration.

William Stout was a simple, congenial man. He had tried on many occasions to befriend the reclusive Tom Lefroy. No matter how cordial or easy he was in manner the other young man never seemed to notice. Every attempt to draw him into conversation had failed and at length William had decided it was no longer worth his time. For Tom Lefroy seemed to be a hopeless case, he had few friends and even less humor. Or at least that was what William believed until he heard an unmistakably jolly laugh coming from his neighbor.

He looked over the see the man in question holding a letter and shaking with laughter.

"You all right there?" he asked. Almost afraid Tom would snap at him for asking.

He didn't seem to notice William had said anything for a moment. Then suddenly he looked up with shining eyes and said

"Yes. Everything is exactly right." Before turning back to his letter.

Tom knew he must have looked ridiculous but couldn't bring himself to care. She was just so...Jane. He didn't know how else to describe it. He couldn't imagine anyone sending him a letter so to the point. He could envision her frowning at his hastily penned letter from last week. Of course Jane would have had to remind him that she would be waiting for his explanation. He couldn't help the laughter that escaped him with her words.

_My Dear,_

_It better be great._

_Love,_

_Jane_

Short, to the point, and completely Jane. It made his day, no it made his week. She was no doubt annoyed with him, but it would have to wait. He didn't want to tell her his news until it was all settled. It was also the truth that his time was not his own. The work with his uncle was tedious and time consuming. He was accustomed to it though and managed with little trouble. The real constraint to his time was the work he was doing on the side with Kensington.

They had worked together on a case recently and found that their personalities were well suited for partnership. Kensington had been doing law consultation for hire in his spare time. It didn't make much money but they thought that between the two of them they had the tenants for a working business. Their plans gave him reason to hope for the future. A future where he could be dependent on himself. These lofty dreams required work though. Which is why he was exhausted enough to laugh loudly while surrounded by his colleagues. No doubt poor William was still reeling from his uncharacteristic outburst.

He muttered a hasty 'excuse me' before returning to his work. He would need to skive out early from the office today and didn't want to leave any cause for the Judge to rail about. There would be no work left upon his desk.

The tavern was well lit and nicely appointed. Tom wasn't completely pleased that they were having such an important gathering in a local tavern but their options were limited. He could not expect Kensington to entertain them in his humble dwelling and having their meeting under the Judges roof would be madness. So they would make do with what was available to them. He spoke quickly to the serving girl and procured a clean table closest to the fire where he sat to wait however impatiently for his comrade to appear.

He resisted ordering a drink and instead occupied himself with rehearsing his notes and straightening his jacket. Smoothing out the dark green wool he smiled knowingly. It wasn't the velvet he previously preferred but the color was just as rich. Idly he wondered if Jane would like it.

Frank Kensington was a tall man who was as lean and gangly as a newborn colt. Watching him walk would inevitably put you off from wanting to know him. But his warm and friendly nature quickly overrode that instinctual response. His unimpressive looks carefully disguised his keen mind. The subterfuge was something Tom recognized and admired. Both men were very alike in that way. Neither were really what they presented to the world. Tom had to admit that it was enjoyable to have a friend again.

"Fancy meeting you here." Kensington quipped while folding himself, quite ungracefully, into the short backed wooden chair.

"Small town." Tom couldn't help bantering with him.

"Ha, right you are old man. So any last words before we sell our souls?" Kensington asked in a joking manner but with a hint of truth. It was a good approximation of what they were about to do. If this deal went through, both theirs lives would be intrinsically tied to this plan.

Tom folded his hands behind his head in a brutish display of confidence. It was a gesture he had used frequently since childhood. He mulled over the thought of last words for a minute then decided against uttering any. Last words were for endings; tonight, he hoped, would be about beginnings.

"We won't settle for anything longer than a three month turn over."

Tom had been walking the fine line between persistent and pushy for the last hour of negotiations. Kensington had been approached by one Mr. Charles Barnes attorney, about the sale of his rather profitable business. Mr. Barnes had no children was a confirmed bachelor for all of his sixty years. His partner had passed away last year and he complained constantly of being too old to carry on running the firm on his own.

So rather than tracking down some obscure relative to inherit all his hard work he devised a plan to overturn ownership and retire profitably in Surrey of all places. Neither Tom nor Frank had the capital to purchase the firm out right, but that's what this meeting had been for. They were fairly confident, that between the two of them, they could negotiate something with the man.

"And I say six months is more than reasonable." The old man was driving a hard bargain.

"Why don't we meet in the middle and saw four and a half?" Kensington, the softer voice of reason said.

"If that's the only condition left to agree on I have no problem accepting four and a half." Tom conceded.

"So what do you say Barnes? We have a deal?"

Both younger men stared at the older from across the table. There was a slight twitch in his left eye but other than that his face was unreadable. For a few minutes none of the party spoke a word and Tom began to worry that they had pushed their luck too far.

But eventually the older man's face seemed to soften and his lips twitched up into a sad excuse for a smile.

"I still think you're asking for too many concessions but I like you both. Let's just get this over and done with. I'd like to be out of this god forsaken city by next summer."

"You most certainly shall. If you are available we could write the contract up and have it ready to sign by the end of the week."

Bolstered by the agreement they had reached Tom quickly tied up all the loose ends and spoke the required pleasantries. I wouldn't do to have their new business associate think they were completely bereft of manners. Even if said manners weren't obviously present during the previous hour.

"I look forward to working with you gentlemen, but now I fear I must retire. These late hours are not kind to my aged constitution."

"Certainly sir," Tom said taking the man's hand in a firm yet clammy handshake.

"I think congratulations are in order," he said after Kensington had made his goodbyes and Mr. Barnes was safely out of earshot. Giving his trademark lopsided smile, Kensington took a deep flourishing bow.

"Your congratulations are most heartily accepted." He gave the shorter man a solid slap on the back before propelling him towards the bar.

"This calls for a least a few drinks, if not a barrel." Tom fixed him with a glare before his friend quickly allied his fears.

"Do not worry so Lefroy. I shan't keep you out passed your bed time."

"How kind." Tom responded but without any real sarcasm.

He rather felt like a drink himself. He had been diligently keeping sober over the last few months, since Jane had come back into his life. Tonight would be an exception to the rule though. For as much as he knew it would be irresponsible to write to her when he was spirited, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to celebrate the one thing he'd manage to accomplish that might bring him closer to her.

It was some time later that he stood pacing his rooms, pen in hand but mind empty of the right words. He was almost too excited to explain himself on paper. All he had managed to convey so far was a sparse retelling of facts. She would not appreciate that. Especially not after his last disappointing letter to her.

He grabbed at his hair in frustration with himself. This would not do.

Resigned to the fact that wearing a hole in his floor wouldn't be any assistance to his current dilemma, he sank heavily into the warm leather armchair that sat closet the hearth. Having one last idea he closed his eyes and imaged Jane in this very room with him. He imaged her a chair to match his own as they sat quietly before the fire enjoying each other's company. He stared openly at her in his imagination, appreciating the way the soft light from the fire made her eyes dark and her hair shine. The shadows that ebbed and flowed across her pale skin would highlight the hollow of her throat and the soft curve of her collarbones.

His dream Jane would give him a mischievous smile, as if she knew exactly what he had been thinking.

God how he loved her.

The woman was a lesson in dichotomy; equal parts innocence and temptation, all wrapped up in a soft and inviting package, decorated with a captivating wit. In other words, designed to be almost irresistible to one Tom Lefroy.

A traitorous voice in the back of his mind questioned why he would have resist her. After all it was his imagination, what was to stop his dream self from reaching out, pulling her into his lap, digging his fingers deep into her silky hair and claiming her mouth in a kiss.

"Hell!" He said loudly, jerking upright in his chair, eyes wide open, trying to adjust to the light.

He must have been indulging in that train of thought far longer than he intended. Maybe he should put off writing until tomorrow. Heaven knows he couldn't afford to let his thoughts drift that way twice in one night. He might just wake up and find himself on the road to Hampshire with every intention of stealing her away, and then where would they be.


	10. Ten

_Tom,_

_I realize that I just sent my little missive two days ago, but I couldn't keep from writing again._

_I do want to know what your news is, desperately in fact, but I am confident that you will inform me as soon as you are able. I hope you didn't take my note the wrong way. So as a sign of good faith I decided that I could write to you again instead of waiting for your response. It's perfectly sensible, is it not?_

_Besides, I knew you would be waiting on pins and needles for a detailed description of the wedding. Men often pretend to think little of these things but you by dear must enjoy it._

_Yes, I am laughing at you._

_You must forgive me though because at the moment of writing this, I'm in quite a happy mood. I shall tell you why in a moment._

_First I shall regale you with all the boring little details of the wedding between your two favorite people. Starting with the weather, which was perfection. Nary a cloud in the sky and it was not too hot. The bride was everything lovely in ivory satin and lace from Paris. Everyone was in raptures over it, although it was a little low cut for my personal taste. It's a wonder how she gets away with it._

_Our groom was as dashing as ever. The red regimentals are quite complimentary with his fair coloring. It convinced me to insist that Cassandra wear more red. I of course cannot manage the color. I had the unfortunate luck to be born with dark hair._

_The ceremony was in my father's traditional economical style and was performed with as much elegance as could be expected in a country chapel. There had been speculation that the bride would not be quite satisfied with the arrangements, but if that was the case you would never know it. Eliza was luminescent in her happiness._

_The luncheon was comfortable and the food quite delicious. There was more variety of dishes than I suspect was really necessary but not one guest went away not proclaiming high praise of the meal._

_Now though I shall get into the more interesting news, the guests. Needless to say everyone that was invited did indeed attend. It was the perfect opportunity to reacquaint myself with some of the families that I had seen little of since the story of our running away was passed around._

_You must be proud of me though because I behaved myself very well and even succeeded in swaying a few of the more difficult guests back into my favor. The most promising part of the day was when I spoke with your aunt, Mrs. Lefroy. The meeting took place with only the best possible outcome being the result._

_You cannot know how pleased I was at that. All prejudice or derision was put aside, and though not quite the same, the warmth with which she greeted me left me in no doubt of her continuing affections. We are slated to have them over for tea Thursday next. I know it's not much but renewing the friendly relations with your family can only be a boon to our situation._

_Now back to why I'm in such a jolly mood._

_I don't know if the feelings will translate but I have had the most spectacular, creative, inspirational, romantic, prolific, and intense writing session. I dare say session is not quite the right word, for it lasted two whole days and nights. The novel I began in London is finally coming together and I must admit I am very pleased with my progress._

_I cannot wait to share it with you. I should finish this letter though. Two nights of little to no sleep has left me quite exhausted. Please hurry and try to write again. I miss reading something new._

_All my love,_

_Jane_


	11. Eleven

_Jane,_

_I do not even know where to start with this letter. There is so much I yearn to convey, to explain. I wish we were together, so you could see my excitement and I could read the expression in your eyes. Of course that is not the only reason I wish we were together corporeally. But I do not think I should expound on that count._

_Firstly, I am happy that Henry and Eliza's wedding was such a success, and that you enjoyed yourself._

_I do not believe you could ever comprehend the grief I feel when I think on what you have suffered because of me. Continue, my dear, to enjoy the society of those around you. No one could possibly remember my rakish ways when met with your charm and vivacity. You are above reproach._

_My aunt is a level headed woman who no doubt still has as much affection for you as ever. It pleases me to know that you will be renewing the relationship with my family. They, like everyone else, is better for knowing you. I shall enjoy picturing you in the familiar rooms of the lodge once again._

_The library in particular. Sometimes I shudder to think of the flirtatious things I said to you there. I could never seem to control my tongue when in your presence. Do you know that I cannot enter a library, or even a room housing a small collection of books, without recalling our conversation that day?_

_No doubt you recognize how difficult a condition this is. Not only does my position of employment require me to frequent book containing establishments but it also requires that I look respectable and present. The inevitable wool gathering this condition triggers is quite embarrassing. But enjoyable none the less._

_While I am on the subject of books and their influence on my 'senses', perhaps I should congratulate you on the progress you have made with your own. Is it wrong of me to anticipate being able to read it? Or shall I never be forgiven for calling your work accomplished?_

_I have lately been working on my own accomplishments. No secret to you of course, but I had no plans to continue working for my Uncle indefinitely. For reasons both of his personality, as well as the direction it would have taken me professionally. So I am happy to report that my situation has just recently changed. Let me give you the story._

_A Mr. Burnes of Grace Church Street has been running a very successful law firm for the past thirty years. His partner recently passed away and he is without any immediate family. Which leads us to the particulars. He had no desire to leave his business to an unknown relative so he sought out a friend of mine to consider a transfer of ownership._

_I do not recall if I have written to you of Frank Kensington. He is a fellow attorney and we seem singularly suited to one another. He is a charming fellow, but quick witted, with quite the sense of humor. I have observed more than once that you would find him amusing. You would also find the old Mr. Burnes amusing as well, but for quite different reasons. Being the connoisseur of human folly that you are._

_Kensington and I have arranged with him to take over his business within the next few months. Mr. Burnes will continue to be a silent partner in this endeavor since neither Kensington nor I have the means to purchase out right. This will give us a chance to build up our reputation and client list._

_It is not much right now but it is a start._ _I will be dependent on myself._

_Jane, that makes me so satisfied._ _The only thing missing is you._

_Soon, my love._

_Think of me, dear one, for tomorrow I speak to my uncle. I have little hope that my news will be well received. I am determined to keep his favor though._

_How, I am not sure, but I shall think of something. I do not need him as my enemy._

_At the risk of sounding sentimental I will close this letter with all the assurances of my love and affection._

_I miss you._

_Yours always,_

_Tom_

_P.S. Contrary to your previous statement I find it quite fortunate that you were born with dark hair. I believe it to be my favorite feature of yours._


	12. Twelve

"Shall we enjoy ourselves this evening or stay in staunch disdain of the company"?

"Jane," Cassandra scolded, "Do not say such things! You know perfectly well that we shall enjoy our evening at Lefroy lodge, even you stubborn one."

Jane scowled at her well-tempered sister and watched as she meticulously brushed out her soft golden hair. She was not feeling generous tonight. Whether it was nerves or just a general inclination towards aggravation, she did not know. What she did know was that they were to have dinner with the Lefroys and the party would include the Smiths. Mrs. and Miss Smith were manageable enough in private, but in company they possessed the singular ability to say just the thing to ruin an evening. Jane had no doubt it would be used at her expense. Or even worse, at Cassandras.

She chose her attire without much care and dressed at a leisurely pace they really could not afford. Cassandra made no move to rush her though. She knew the sting her sister's words could hold when she was in a mood. Cassandra had no desire to be on the receiving end of a Jane diatribe. She felt no ill will toward her sister though. Intimidating though she may have been at present, she knew it was coming from an insecure place.

The two sisters moved about their room in a practiced economy that spoke of many nights like this one. Here in this small, warm room, they were safe, sheltered from the outside world. A world that neither had fully re-entered after heartbreak. Jane escaping into her writing and Cassandra into household work.

Jane's fingers itched to hold her pen once more. She had done little else but write for days on end. Maybe the forceful removal from her characters was to blame for her foul mood. She was deeply involved in the maelstrom of emotions between Elizabeth and Darcy at present. But they were to dinner and it would be impolitic to allow her thoughts to remain so engaged in her written world. So with careful deliberation she froze the story in her mind, letting it hold for the time being.

Seeing her sister struggle to clasp her necklace in front of the mirror, in the same fashion she had done many times before, pulled Jane out of her selfishness. With light fingers she brushed her sisters hand out of the way and fastened the pearls, adjusting them so they lay just so.

Cassandra leaned back slightly into her sister's warmth and moved to reassure with words. "I dare say you shall find the evening quite amiable if you apply yourself."

"And how do you suggest I apply myself?" Jane asked with a wry smile on her lips.

"You know very well what I suggest. Watch, mimic, laugh, all the little things you have always done before. Continue to be you, Jane." She spoke quickly and with a sense of urgency Jane wasn't expecting. Although she should have expected it. Cassie was always chastising her in the most efficient ways.

"You're right, of course." She said restraining herself from making lite of her sisters words.

"Of course," Cassandra replied, earning a short yet sweet peal of laughter from her sister.

The quiet family of four stood as one when the dark lacquered carriage pulled up in front of the main gate. It was early evening and the light was fading out into a gray haze. They were certainly a sight. Mr. and Mrs. Austen standing close with arms all tangled in between; Jane and Cassandra still as stones, standing at attention. Had there ever been such an odd party? The elders more happy and affectionate than the young. But so was the way of life in that small part of Hampshire.

Jane felt a tight pinch as she ascended the front steps of Lefroy Lodge. "Jane" she heard her sister hiss sharply in her ear. She turned and gave Cassie an inquisitive look. What could she be on about?

"You wore the dress with the hole," she explained in a low whisper.

It took Jane only a few seconds to understand what her sister was saying.

"Oh no," she breathed looking down at the train of her dress. The hole was obvious to the observer. 'This is exactly what I get for not paying attention,' she internally berated herself. Her first dinner at the Lefroy's and she was showing up looking like a beggar. Well, she corrected, not quite a beggar. But at least bedraggled, like she could care less for their opinion. Which was so far from the truth that it was comical. 'Oh irony', she thought to herself 'my friend, you are never far.'

Jane spent most of the evening angling her body in such a way as to hide the offending hole in the lower portion of her skirt. It was not the most efficacious tactic but standing by the fire, as if cold, seemed to allow her to stay in one place. Therefore covered, however momentarily.

"I hear you're to go to town this winter, Miss. Lefroy?" Jane asked Lucy politely in an attempt to make conversation. The girl had been staring at her most of the evening and the meal had not even been served yet. Jane knew it was not out of malice, more likely just a morbid curiosity. It must be hard for the young and romantic to look upon those who had been so failed in it. Jane reckoned she was Lucy's walking nightmare.

"Uh..yes we plan to stay on until new year."

"And are you looking forward to it? I imagine you will attend many balls and assemblies." That as all Jane needed to say to get the girl speaking freely. She listened on more or less for the better part of an hour. It was tedious but by far the lesser evil. While she had to endure endless chatter on bonnets and dances, the rest of her poor family were being regaled by the Smiths.

She turned her attention back to Lucy again and gave her a winning smile. 'Oh yes', she thought, 'you are certainly preferable.'

It had not been much longer when Mrs. Lefroy called the guests into the dining room. Jane held back hoping to be at the rear of the party to best conceal her dress. Sensing her dilemma, Cassandra walked up and stood close to her sister's side, concealing Jane's dress with her own.

"What were you and Miss Lefroy speaking of for all that time?"

"Oh the usual. Shops and parties, the latest fashion, and beau of course. It is not often I have someone with which I can converse on such enthralling topics. I dare say my evening has already been made." Jane spoke in her most effected accent.

"I am happy for you sister." Cassandra replied with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I do not believe we've had such a fine meal the whole season, have we not mother?" Miss Smith spoke and gestured loudly in her praise to the lady of the house. Mrs. Lefroy nodded her acknowledgment of the compliment, but as one who knew the other lady well, kept silent. It was a good thing too because Miss Smith did not contain her raptures to the meal alone.

Jane was seated comfortably between Cassandra and Mrs. Smith, who unlike her daughter, was absolutely silent this evening. The old women was also most likely deaf, which made her a most agreeable dinner companion in Jane's estimation. Her daughter though had continued on about everything on Gods good earth. Some points of her conversation were so ridiculous that not only did Jane share amused looks with her sister and father, but Mrs. Lefroy was even smirking at her in amusement.

"Generosity itself, was it not mother, for you to send your carriage to us Mr. Lefroy."

"Now, now. I don't want to hear any more on the subject. The generosity is all yours for agreeing to dine with us. It was only proper that we sent for you." Mr. Lefroy was everything gracious with his words but they were an obvious attempt to quiet the woman. Jane watched as his wife reached out and laid a hand on his forearm which seemed to settle him. Jane felt a pang in her chest. They were always small and hardly noticeable, but the intimate gestures between lovers had the most profound effect on her. The little things were what she grieved for the most about Tom. Would she be able to sooth him with a touch, or calm him with a look? Their separation seemed so long that she could hardly say anymore.

The worst was that she feared she was losing the exact color of his eyes, or the shape of his lips when he smiled her special smile. Could she even recall the melodic tone of his voice?

And just like that her thoughts seemed to somehow conjure his name into the air.

"- your nephew Thomas. I am sure he will be glad of your company for the season. Is he well?"

The conversation had veered towards the Lefroys plans to winter in London. Miss Smith had then remembered that their nephew resided there, and of course inquired after him. Completely unaware of what she had said, Miss Smith scanned the shocked faces of the others. Who's, incidentally, all seemed to be trained on Jane's face. For a long minute no one uttered a word.

Still stung by hearing his name spoken aloud Jane stared wordlessly at her plate. She could not, would not, allow herself to appear so altered by the mention of his name. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself against the pain and lifted her eyes to the party. She was expecting the stares of a room full of people who felt pity for her. What she found was surprising. Of course most were looking at her with a mixture of wary sympathy, but one gaze gave her unexpected strength. Mrs. Lefroy was looking at her with calm assurances written plainly on her face. There was no pity or nervous agitation in her eyes, and with all the dignity the situation called for, she answered.

"I believe my nephew is tolerably well." She said holding Jane's gaze.

"One thing I am looking forward to is the roads. It is always preferable to traverse snow covered roads when they are stone. None of that mucky business in London. I dare say last year we were snowed in at the Lodge for three straight weeks."

And just like that the conversation was once again diverted, and once again, Jane could breath.

As she lay in her bed that night images of Tom kept invading her mind. She had been so careful to distract herself from thinking of him when she was in his family's house. But once he had been spoken of the memories poured back in. Now as she lay here in the silent darkness she could not shake the images that plagues her.

Most insidious were the images of his smirking at her in the library. Oh how he had baited her. He had stirred her mind and her heart that day. Infuriating her, yet at the same time entrapping her. At the memory of the words he spoke she felt herself flush red in the darkness.

Huffing softly with frustration she rolled over determined to think on it no more.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was mid-morning, yet Mrs. Austen was the only one of the household awake, besides the servants. She did not begrudge them their lie in. It had been a late evening the night before and she planned to enjoy the solitude. It gave her the time to consider her daughters and what she would do.

They had received a letter last week from Edward. His wife was expecting again and having a difficult time with it. He had requested either of his sisters company for his wife. The question was, who she would send, or if she should send both. Each one needed the change, something to pull them out of their self-imposed confinements.

Mrs. Austen knew with certainty that no amount of time would alter the set of either daughter's heart, or mind. The questioned remained though of what was to be done. Poor Cassandra, her beautiful name sake daughter. There was nothing anyone could do to rectify the loss. The only solution she could offer for that daughter would be occupation.

The more difficult of the two was always Jane. Would the solution for Cassandra work for Jane as well? Not that Jane needed anything else to occupy her time. The girl had been holed up in her room, writing away like a royal scribe. Mrs. Austen smiled to herself the same way she did when she first realized Jane was writing again. Ever since she was a little girl Jane had had ink stained fingers constantly. Of course, as her mother she had scolded and complained about the ink stains, but she was positively heartbroken when they were no longer there.

The stains were back though. She was quite certain she knew why too. Of course those girls thought she knew nothing about the letters. How quickly daughters forget that their mothers were once in their shoes. Mrs. Austen was resigned to continue the charade. 'What will be, will be' she thought to herself. Hopefully that young man would come through yet.

Taking a long drink of her tea she picked up the letter from Edward again. She would speak to the girls this afternoon. A trip to the coast would do them both good. Or so she hoped.


	13. Thirteen

_My Dear Mr. Lefroy,_

_I feel I must address you in a more formal manner after receiving the contents of your last letter._

_A man of business are you?_

_Please, take my teasing in stride. I must admit I am exceedingly proud of you. I had no inclination that your news would be in any way what is was. I am relieved on more than one count. I have all manner of questions for you but do not know where to start._

_Mostly I would want to know that you are happy._

_Are you?_

_Can you see yourself being satisfied with this endeavor?_

_I would also like to inquire about the prospect of our future. Do not answer though, at least not yet. I anticipate yet fear the truth. You said soon and so I shall hold fast to your words._

_Things have been quite interesting for myself as well. Though not to the same degree. We dined this week at Lefroy lodge and had the added company of the Smiths. Do not you envy me? Though not for much longer I am sure._

_I heard that your aunt and uncle are to visit you when they adjourn to London for the winter. Your cousin, I believe, was in particular raptures to see you. The feeling is mutual no doubt for I know how you enjoyed her performance at the pianoforte. I dare say you shall all make a lovely party for the holidays._

_I am not jealous, well, maybe a little._

_I am off on my own journey though. Not as glamorous as Christmas in London but cheerful none the less._

_Cassandra and I are headed to the coast to visit my brother Edward and his wife. We heard from him not long ago that my sister in law is doing poorly and he requested our company. Mother said he desired us both, but I believe he desired Cassandra more, if only for her nursing ability. I am quite useless in that area I'm afraid. None the less I am going. I shall enjoy seeing my brother and a change of scenery will do me good._

_I plan on spending a good deal of time revising First Impressions. Which, if you are curious, is the title of the novel I have been working on. And, despite your previous teasing of my 'accomplished' abilities, I shall let you read it, eventually._

_My only concern with this scheme is that I fear we shall not be able to exchange letters for some time. It would be exceedingly difficult to keep them secret. A harsh reality, I know. Though as unfortunate as the truth is, it might be beneficial for both parties._

_You must concentrate on your work, and I on my writing._

_If you could see me writing this now you would know by the sadness in my eyes that I am trying to be positive, yet failing._

_I do not wish to write to you of the harshness of my feelings. The longing and loneliness, I fear, you know just as well as I. Some days I wonder if I shall ever see your face again._

_Forgive my maudlin thoughts, I cannot seem to hold them back tonight._

_I wish you to know that I love and miss you. I pray you understand my reasoning behind the break in our contact, it is in no way preferable to myself. I shall always be waiting, never doubt._

_Cassandra and I are set to leave in two weeks' time, which should allow you to reply to this letter at least. We will be returning to Steventon sometime after New Year. May the time go quickly._

_Yours forever,_

_Jane_


	14. Fourteen

_Dear Jane,_

_Thank you for the considerate retelling of your evening at Lefroy lodge. Can you not relay information in your letters without teasing me?_

_You are wrong, and you very well know it, in assuming that I will be happy for my cousins company. Not that I would ever be intentionally neglectful._

_No, I cannot lie to you. I will neglect her as often as I am able when my family is in town._

_Do not deny that you find her infatuation and my inherent revulsion at her attentions amusing. I shall endure though, and you shall be sorry to have missed the opportunity to laugh at me._

_So you are going to visit your brother then. And in doing so traveling even farther away from me._

_Your maudlin thoughts seem to have influenced my own. It appears we shall also have our only means of communication severed for some time._

_God... Jane, I do not know what to write. I feel myself utterly selfish and ignorant but, it is not enough._

_It is by far more than I deserve yet not enough. Not even close. My heart refuses to make way for my mind. A mind which understands that we cannot be together now, understands that I cannot see you, touch you._

_But Jane, you must know, it is killing me._

_Now the prospect of going weeks without your sweet words, scrawled across paper that was once touched by your hands, hurts. I am not even ashamed to tell you that I smell the parchment, believing incredulously that some part of your scent still lingers there._

_I have tried to keep the violent longing from invading my letters but it is becoming increasingly difficult. I dream of you, every night. Waking alone every morning, accursed, with nothing but your letters to smooth me. And now I shall be forced to live without those._

_Forgive me my melodramatic flair. It cannot be helped. I know you will read these words and think I have taken leave of my senses. Maybe I have._

_As freely as I gave away my heart, my mind seems impatient to run off and join it. I fear I shall be a broken hearted and senseless man until you are with me. To save me from myself. I am trying though. Everything I do at present is with our future in mind._

_I promised you soon, and soon it shall be. I have no time line at this moment to give validity to that claim, just an overwhelming need for it to be so. I shall do my best to move heaven and earth for you._

_Pleasantries are not within me at present to share but I do understand your request. It is more than reasonable and I acquiesce as graciously as a man in my position could be expected._

_Enjoy the time away. I say that most sincerely. I shall be waiting to hear word from you again._

_As always, I am yours heart and soul,_

_Tom_


	15. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of things to note;
> 
> 1\. Edwards Wife was named Elizabeth but in my story she is going by Beth.
> 
> 2\. Edward was formally adopted by the Austen's cousins, the Knights, but I kept his surname Austen in the story.

Jane allowed the rhythmic sway of the coach to lull her into a state a semi sleep. Not quite awake yet present enough that she could enjoy listening in on the other passenger's conversation. She didn't feel bad about it, not really. And they were quite humorous. Apparently Jane and Cassandra were in the presence of a very disgruntled mother whose son had severely disappointed all her hopes. The young man in question, and young only if thirty could be considered so, had refused to marry his cousin and thus was traveling home with a terribly angry mother. More than once Jane had to disguise a laugh as a yawn. The journey from Steventon to Edwards house at the coast was quite long, almost unbearably so. Yet, she consoled herself, at least there was sufficient entertainment.

The countryside swiftly flew by and the sky darkened as they made way. Cassandra seemed to content herself with enjoying the scenery and once the other passengers had stopped being interesting, Jane pulled out her battered copy of The Monk. But the familiar text did not hold her attention for long. By and by she found herself imagining another girl, younger than her, setting out for a journey, for an adventure. She would have to write this down, it had the makings of a good story.

They changed horses at the dinner hour and Jane and Cassandra enjoyed a surprisingly decent meal at the local tavern before they were off again. Now it was well into the night and Jane was the only passenger still awake. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you looked at it, the entertaining familial pairs journey had ended some time ago. They were replaced with a grieved looking old man who smelled vaguely of manure. His company was much less enjoyable as he snored rather loudly. Cassandra seemed to have found a solution in covering her bonnet and head with her wrap. Jane thought she looked rather silly, but she was sleeping peacefully so Jane would not laugh.

The dark solitude was rather eerie and the only thing to be heard was the turning of the wheels and the pattering of horse hooves in the night. Oddly enough she felt rather safe. Cocooned somehow in anonymity. No one could touch her in this moment.

She let her thoughts drift to her characters and she silently contemplated all the trouble they had been causing. No matter what she imagined she could not get the proud Mr. Darcy and the prejudiced Miss Bennet to cooperate. She loved them and all their complexities and would not change them for anything. First Impressions needed quite a lot of revisions though, not to mention an ending of some sort. Happy endings were always preferable. She felt like a curious magician molding and shaping things unseen. She wondered if this was how her father felt when writing his sermons. Searching for the right words to impart Gods guidance into the hearts of men.

Jane did not fool herself into thinking her own writing was as lofty as that, yet, in her heart she knew with the certainty that a religious man must, that her words were important. Yet pride was a sin she easily feel into, which brought her thoughts full circle around to Mr. Darcy again. A subject she pondered until feel into an uncomfortable yet deep sleep.

Jane and Cassandra woke in the early hours of morning and watched the sun slowly rise over the town in which they would spend the next several weeks, both looking forward to the comfort and diversion extended family could bring.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The mornings in her brother's house were never quiet. It was not a great deal, yet, with the incessant bustling of her sister in law and nieces and nephews that ran wild; in those early mornings she missed her home severely. On one hand the busy enigmatic atmosphere of a growing family was a decent distraction from thinking of Tom, but it was also a distraction from her work. Jane had taken to working late into the night when all was finally still. Alas late nights did not always lead to late mornings. Jane found herself imbuing more than her customary amount of tea with her breakfast.

It was these exact circumstances that brought Jane and Cassandra to their rooms on a particularly beautiful day. A day in which both would usually prefer to be out of doors. Both sisters were begging headaches in spite of the pleasant offerings of the outdoors and were presently hiding in their personal sanctuary of sisterly affection.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.' what do you think?"

Jane rolled her shoulders in an attempt to loosen the painful knots that had taken residence. She had spent too many hours in her chair instead of her bed and was feeling the effects. There was nothing to be done about it now. When the words came she dutifully gave herself over to the muse and paid the consequences without complaint.

"I've told you once already by your request, I like it."

Cassandra was doing her level best to be a help to her sister. Jane had always used Cassie as an unofficial editor. Often reading whole chapters aloud so that he sister could give her opinion on the characters and wording.

"I fear it pretentious."

"It is not."

"Are you sure?" Jane questioned again, the end of her pen firmly lodged between her lips in a typically indecisive gesture.

"I am sure."

"I know what you are thinking." She said while getting up and beginning to pace the room.

"But this is the most important line in the whole novel. First lines are elemental, Cassie, not to be underestimated. I have this feeling, this premonition almost. I must get this right."

Cassandra could see that her sister's passion was palpable and she believed ever word. It gave her the inclination to address the one question she had about the story.

"I do have one thought though."

"Yes?" Jane said, finally settling herself back onto the bed.

"I understand where you are going with the story, but truly Jane, must you make Mr. Darcy such an insufferable ass?"

The shocked look on Jane's face in response was enough to send Cassandra into a fit a laughter bringing her very amused sister with her. Neither was able to calm themselves for many long minutes.

"Oh Cassie, I do not think I have laughed like that in a long time."

"Nor I, but I was serious about your hero." Cassandra told her truthfully, all the while with an arm still wrapped around her waist from the laughter.

"I know you were. Yet, even your highly valued opinion shall not move me, or Mr. Darcy. There is a reason."

"A reason for his being proud and disagreeable?"

"There is always a reason."

Jane's suspicious smile made Cassandra wonder what exactly she was thinking but did not ask.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Where are you going?"

Jane paused in the doorway at the question.

"Walking."

"You wish to be alone." It wasn't a question, not really. Cassandra could read Jane's face, she knew.

Jane nodded in recognition.

"Do not stay out too long. I fear the weather harsh for a pleasure stroll."

"I will not be long Cassie. I need just enough fresh air to clear my mind."

Of course she didn't qualify just how much time that would take. The long solitary walks along the wet sand were, by estimation, the best part of her visit. When she was alone it wasn't strange to spend an hour thinking up imaginary conversations between her and Tom. She would speculate on what he was doing at certain times and what his answer might be to certain questions she wished to ask. These moments were her escape in their little world of happiness. And no matter how long the days seemed to drag in their separation she knew that their world would not falter.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As the weeks wore on the frost settled over the coastal home, and excursions to the outdoors were few. The days were short and mostly gloomy, settling as a fog into the household. The smells of holiday cooking lingered in every room and piqued in Jane a bitter sweet sadness. She missed him, in such a tangible way. The separation was painful, yet, there was a pleasure in missing him. Like he was hers to miss. These peculiar thoughts were the reason for her small odd smiles.

"What are you working on?" Her sister in law asked one afternoon. Beth was not quite well, and took to her room most days now. Today though, she said she felt livelier. Jane could see the color in her cheeks. She was happy for her health. Even if it meant her sister in laws often tiresome conversation.

"I am copying the first few chapters of my novel to send home to my parents for Christmas."

"How lovely," she gushed. "Your parents, no doubt, consider themselves very fortunate to have a writer in the family. I think it must be very nice indeed to always have some new entertainment that is exclusive to your particular circle of acquaintance. I do hope you will let us read it."

Beth could always be counted on to praise whatever she had written. Whether it be striking prose, or a laundry list. Jane knew herself, and had to admit that she wasn't immune to flattery. So long as it was taken in small doses, and equally spaced, if not judiciously given. She might not be desirous of her critical opinion, but it was always nice to have your talents enjoyed.

"It really is not ready yet Beth." Jane was expecting to have to talk her way around that statement but was given a reprieve. For she seemed quite content to ignore the refusal and instead focused her attentions on the much greater slight that was plaguing her.

Beth had heard it straight from Mrs. Forester that the Wharton's were to be traveling over the Holidays thus abandoning the previously agreed upon Christmas meal with the Austen's. A letter from the Wharton's was received the next day explaining the situation in great detail and causing Beth a fit of indignation that far surpassed anything Jane had even seen in her own mother.

"I still cannot abide it Jane. How the Wharton's could call themselves friends of ours and disappoint us so. Do they not know the respect that should at least be shown you, Edward's sisters, with a proper evening introduction?"

Jane sighed inwardly and gently placed her pen upon the table top; resigned to the task of placating her sister in law. It would not have felt like such a burden if she didn't need to spend the time working. Jane knew very well that she could send Tom nothing for Christmas, not matter how she wished to. Yet she believed that her dedication to her writing was a compliment to him as well. She so wanted him to be proud of her. Not just proud, but enraptured, enthralled, enchanted... With a swift shake of her head she interrupted her own wayward thoughts and turned her attention back to Beth.

No wonder she found her own writing flouncy.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Christmas morning dawned cold and overcast but Jane and Cassandra did not notice the weathers gloomy prediction. They sat close together on Cassie's bed, reading the latest letter from home that they had saved for three days in expectation for this very moment. Their mother's gentle and affectionate words soothed what little homesickness they did feel, and the mundane gossip was enough to raise their spirits after the dreadfully dull Christmas meal of last night.

Cassandra pushed a few a Jane's wayward curls behind her ear and gave her a swift kiss on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas Jane." Her words holding all the gratitude and affection for the sister who had stuck by her over the trials both had so recently faced.

Jane regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. She felt a hopefulness well up in her breast at the lightness in Cassandras eyes. It was something she feared quite gone. Yet despite hardship it was returning. A lazy smile slowly slide across her face.

"It's not completely terrible is it?"

Cassandra had no trouble following her humor and smiled in return.

"Not completely," she agreed.

Breakfast was a rushed affair with the children squirming in their seats. Jane felt some of their excitement transfer to her even though she knew nothing she really desired would be gifted her today. How would you gift a person anyway? She stifled a very unladylike laugh at the imagining of her Tom wearing a bow upon his head.

They quickly adjourned to the drawing room where the maidservant passed around nicely wrapped bundles. Fanny was resplendently happy with jewelry Edward had purchased for her and the children were busy chasing the tiny dog around the room. And didn't the poor creature look ridiculous in his bow and ribbons. Mr. and Mrs. Austen had thoughtfully sent Jane and Cassandra nothing more than a little extra for their expenses. The last package to be opened was from Henry and Eliza. Not surprisingly Jane and Cassandra both received a measure of silk from Eliza. And from Henry; books for Cassandra, and Jane received extra parchment and a very handsome set of new pens.

Jane was so busy admiring them that she did not notice the letter that had fallen out of her new stack of paper. Her very inquisitive nephew missed nothing and swooped down upon the piece of paper and holding it aloft questioned loudly about what it was. Jane snatched it quickly out of his hand with a friendly smile.

"Well, it appears to be a letter." She drawled thinking it strange that Henry would have enclosed a sealed letter in her gift. All is clear though when she reads the address. Jane knows her face goes pale and her hand wavers ever so slightly. So many questions plague her. They had agreed not to exchange letters while she was not at home. How did his letter manage its way into Henry's package? Was there something wrong? She had little time to ponder her own questions though because presently every face in the room was looking at her expectantly.

Whatever would she say?


	16. Sixteen

"Is Eliza sending you secret notes again?" Casandra exclaimed.

Jane looked up sharply in confusion, the letter clutched far too tightly in her hand.

Cassie quickly stood and put her arm around Jane, grabbing the letter from her tight fist.

"She is," Cassie said loudly pretending to read the inscription on the paper.

Jane still seemed utterly confused but by the looks on the rest of the family Cassandras lie seemed to be working.

"Cousin Eliza sends you secret letters Jane?" Edward asked. Ignoring his wife's overly interested expression.

Beth began craning her neck to try and get a better look at the letter that was now in Cassandra possession. Jane shook her head as if to clear a fog before giving her sister an imploring look. Jane willed her eyes to convey to Cassie her need to get out of this room and the present situation.

"You know Eliza," Cassandra prevaricated, "always with the little intrigues. Most likely she just intends to complain about our dear Henry."

"Well that's the French for you," Beth cooed. Losing interest in the now not so mysterious letter.

"Thank you for the gifts everyone, but I think I'm going to lie down for a while. I'm suddenly over tired," Jane mumbled while rushing from the room.

Cassandra stared after her wondering if Jane would need her company or if she was better left alone. Perhaps she should stay here and do her best to divert suspicion from Jane's odd behavior. But suddenly her worry was for naught. A loud wailing could be heard coming from behind the chaise lounge.

"Mother, the puppy's bitten me!"

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jane whipped the door to her bedchamber closed as fast as she could. Showing no care for the noise it made or the shelves it rattled. She had almost been obligated to relate the circumstances of her correspondence with Tom. She should be nervous, fearful even. Yet the only emotion she could feel was a desperate urgency to read that letter.

Her mind was in a fit trying to ignore her worst imaginings as to why a letter from Tom was in her Christmas package from Henry. Had something terrible happened?

She threw the letter down onto her bed and began to pace, willing her mind to calm. After a few minutes she felt sufficiently settled and sat down to read.

_Dearest Jane,_

_I feel it is in my best interest to open this letter by asking you to endeavor to be less cross with me than I am sure you currently are. At this moment I can picture the little crease on your brow that you always get when I have said or done something to frustrate you._

_Considering that I have been doing just that the majority of our acquaintance, I should tell you that I am quite familiar with this expression of yours._

_And I am convinced this unexpected letter has more than frustrated you. Owning to my knowledge of your distaste in being left out of a scheme I will explain myself at once._

_I happened upon your brother quite unexpectedly on Oxford Street this morning. It would seem that the newlyweds are in town for the season. Which you must know, of course. I cannot say he greeted me warmly but I pressed my luck and begged an hour of his time. Henry was most gracious in allowing me to explain my abhorrent actions over the past year, though he did chastise me quite appropriately as any loving brother would._

_I hope that you will forgive me for taking your brother into my confidence without your leave. It was something I felt compelled to do._

_I must tell you Jane that something you said to me on the day our initial hopes were dashed has been weighing heavy on my conscience. When I told you that I depended entirely upon my uncle, you looked at me with complete confidence and said that you relied on me. Those words have haunted me all these months. I had foolishly thought I knew what the burden of responsibility felt like. I have sacrificed some momentary comfort to provide for my family. Yet when I looked into your beautifully sincere eyes, gazing at me with hope and confidence, I felt fear. Not just for the impossible monetary bind my uncle had placed me in, but a deep fear of my own inability to be the kind of man that one such as you should ever depend upon._

_How could I, imposter that I am, ever endeavor to deserve such a gift?_

_But endeavor I have._

_Jane, these past months have been a revelation. My duty is to my family, and will always be. Yet, I cannot be beholden, not to my Uncle or any other._

_The independence my new path has won me is something I never understood I needed until I had it. Now the only thing missing is you._

_Forgive me, my dearest I am rambling. And all I have written may seem far too forthcoming to be considered proper. Yet I find myself without any shame._

_You are my other half, the better part of my soul. And how can I truly know myself if you do not know me?_

_This passion that is welling up in my chest has no other outlet but you. Your name is a litany that pulses through my veins and nothing but complete and utter intimacy with you will fulfill me, body and soul._

_Maybe I write this way because your brother has agreed to enclose this letter in his packages to you and your family, and have only a few short minutes to get it into his hands. Or perhaps I have finally taken leave of my senses after one to many beatings to my head._

_But, I remain your Tom, deficient in propriety as ever. At least you can never accuse me of inconsistency._

_Captain Austen is now informed of my intentions toward you and our plans to one day marry. I have also informed him of my circumstances, which though better than before, are still not what a marriage requires. Please do not worry, Henry will be discrete with his knowledge. I cannot guarantee he will not have a multitude of opinions to ply you with. But he is your brother and I leave the telling off to you my dear. Though he has graciously agreed to be a secure channel for us to continue to exchange letters._

_So please write to me. I wish to know how you are faring and every little detail you condescend to share with me._

_Happy Christmas my Love,_

_Yours always,_

_Tom_

As she refolded the letter and tucked it safely into her folio she could only think of how much she loved Thomas Lefroy.


	17. Seventeen

He had expected to see shock. To be swiftly followed by anger, rage, and a thoroughly hyperbolic speech on the failing of his character. In the days leading up to the confrontation with the Judge, Tom had gone over each and every possible outcome. Hoping to be as prepared as possible. What he was wholly unprepared for was his uncle's silence. For the first few moments he was convinced that this was the proverbial calm before the storm. Yet as the minutes ticked away without so much as a sound from the old man, Tom began to sweat. He could feel the moisture on his back, making him want to squirm in his seat. Fidgeting was a sign of weakness, as his father had taught him, so he would ignore the sensation.

"You are determined," his uncle's voice broke the strained silence forcefully.

"I am."

The judge stood, and Tom mirrored his action. Both staring at the other with a dining table and years of frustration between them.

"If you do this thing, if you chose to leave my protection and patronage then I will no longer support you. I will not favor you in your profession nor will I offer my experience or advice. From this day on you will be a stranger to me. And should this venture fail I shall not take you back into my home or my pocketbook. You will live or die entirely on your own ambition."

"I understand," Tom said quickly.

"All I ask is that you not oppose me, that you do nothing to purposefully hinder my success Uncle. No matter how I've angered you."

His uncle looked incredulous. "I have no reason to conspire to see you fail nephew; no doubt you can accomplish that entirely on your own."

And with that the old man drained his wine glass and stalked from the room.

Tom fell back into his chair with a dazed expression on his face. He had finally done it, he was free. Tom had never had much of a mind for numbers. He was a damn fine lawyer but Kensington was the one who ran their books and kept Tom appraised of their profits, or occasionally the lack there of. He rubbed his eyes fiercely as he tried to make sense of the piles of papers covering his desk. It was past midnight but he was determined to formulate a plan that he could stand behind. He needed to work out a rough estimate on when he could conceivably marry. So here he sat alone in his dimly lit office working the numbers, over and over again. How much would he need to set aside to continue helping his parents? Could he afford to engage a house in this part of London large enough to accommodate Jane as well as himself? What if they had children right away, how much would that cost?

Feeling discouraged he picked up her letter to read it for the hundredth time since receiving it this morning.

_My dearest Tom,_

_Despite your best efforts, I am cross with you. Quite cross actually. But I fear it is not for the reason you think._

_It is not because you made me look ridiculous in front of my family by surprising me with that letter, or for speaking so candidly to Henry._

_I am cross because your letter was too perfect, too inspiring, and dare I say titillating to be absorbed with the knowledge that I still do not know when I will get to see your face again._

_Words like that inspire me to physical demonstrations of my feelings, and I cannot touch you._

_So my love, I am cross with you for making me love you so fiercely. It is hardly fair._

_But I shall endeavor to forgive you._

_Life for me has been quiet these past weeks. Not so much in the sense of volume, for my nieces and nephews provide adequate audible stimulation, but quiet in spirit. My day to day activities have been simple and rewarding._

_First Impressions is coming along nicely. I am actually exceedingly proud of it. I sent a few chapters to my parents for Christmas but I've yet to hear their opinion. I am sure it will be much more complimentary than the work warrants, but such is the way with family._

_If Henry is obliging I might be persuaded to send you a copy through him. I admit I am quite desirous of your sincere opinion. And I know you would never flatter me undeservedly._

_You neglected to tell me how you enjoyed your holidays in your last letter. I was expecting a detailed retelling of every scintillating conversation you shared with your dear cousin. Did she play all your favorites on the pianoforte? You must tell me everything for laughing at you is one of my greatest pleasures._

_I must cut this letter short though. For I promised to help the children build a fort in the library while their father is out. You are welcome to imagine me crawling around under tables and laugh to your hearts content._

_All my love,_

_Jane_

_P.S. We must devise some scheme to meet each other in London on my trip home from the coast. I expect some ideas in your next letter._

With renewed spirits he dove back into his planning. He could hardly wait for the day when he could spend every day and every night with that woman.


	18. Eighteen

_Jane My darling girl,_

_You will hopefully be pleased to know that I have in fact been scheming. You could also call it planning but scheming sounds much more devious, does it not?_

_I have been hard at work making plans for us my love. And not just for a clandestine meeting in London. Have I piqued your interest?_

_Two years._

_Can you wait that long dearest Jane?_

_If everything continues the way I hope, we could conceivably marry in two years' time. I know it is not exactly soon, but it is manageable. I have begun to tell myself that in a mere seven hundred and thirty odd days I can take you home with me and never let you leave._

_It also means at least a hundred more letters from your hand that I shall get to enjoy. Which is no small consolation in my opinion._

_I_ _challenge you to find any two lovers who have ever know each other as well as we do after all these months of correspondence._

_There are particulars I would like to discuss with you about our future. Such as where you would like to live._

_But all of that should be covered in person, do not you think? I have spoken to your ever helpful brother and he has agreed to assist me in securing a day for us to spend together in London._

_Think of what you would like to do my love, because I shall be in a mood to give you the moon should you request it._

_Yours always,_

_Tom_


	19. Nineteen

Jane's long time difficulties with sleep were intimately known to those of her family and the small household they kept. No one, servants or family alike, would be disturbed by the occasional bump and hum in the night at Steventon, common place as they were. Her brother's home was altogether a different story. The sumptuous bedclothes and smoldering fire did little to ease Jane into respite. Her agitation and excitement for tomorrow's journey left her even more restless than her usual state. She could think of nothing but Tom. Since wandering the halls and library were most assuredly out of the question she had fixed her mind on writing. Yet the clock had long since chimed midnight and her page was as empty and clean as it was many hours ago when she sat at the small side table. The pen in her hand hung limply over her raised knees as she drifted into a dream like state.

How would he look to her after so long? She had morosely mulled over the possibility that she didn't truly remember his smile, or the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when she said something contrary, as she so often did to vex him. And if she felt this way, did Tom feel the same. Would he have forgotten details of her personage that he held dear?

It was half past four when she resolutely lay herself down with strict instructions that she would not dwell on the unknowns. Soon enough none of her imagining would matter in the least. She would away to London in a few short hours and they would soon be together again. The fact that their time together was limited and not as of yet a permanent arrangement didn't deter the peaceful smile that spread across her tired face. Any few moments in his presence would be cherished, they would be enough for two years.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

The soft rap at the door did little to rouse Jane from the deep sleep her late hours had finally plunged her into. She was so lost to the conscious world that Cassandra had to shake her into rousing. The sight she was presented with when Jane realized it was morning caused her long suffering sister to stifle a guffaw. Jane shot out of bed like a cat dropped into a bucket. Hair and bedclothes flying, she dove for her case beside the bed, furiously searching for something through the dresses, hats, and underclothes.

"Jane," Cassandra exclaimed. Already dreading the work it would take to set her things back to rights.

"Whatever are you doing?"

As if startled to find herself with company Jane swung around, practically tripping over a discarded chemise. She stared at her sister for a moment with eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Where are my pens and paper?" she asked returning to scramble through her nearly empty traveling case. Giving no thought to her sisters amused expression.

"Did you look on the table beside the fire?" Cassandra asked with all sweet innocence, knowing full well she had not. As both the objects of her fervent search were sitting quite unmolested on the small round table where she had left them the night before.

"Of course," she began to gripe when the idea suddenly stole over her. She scrambled up from the floor and without so much as a thank you to her sister, threw herself into the chair and began to scribble something furiously onto her page.

Having enough prior experience and knowledge of her sister's sometimes queer attitudes, Cassandra set herself to the task of collecting the victims of Janes fit with her traveling case. The underclothes and shawls were easy enough to fold and repack. But there was nothing to be done for the dresses that were now hopelessly creased. Poor Jane would have nothing suitable to change into upon their arrival in London. She would have to hope that the state of her attire didn't deteriorate too much upon the journey. Cassandra would make sure she was placed furthest inside the couch to avoid excess dust.

After a period of time, once things were set to rights, Cassandra laid a gentle hand on Jane's shoulder. As expected, Jane jumped almost imperceptibly, but put the pen down and stretched out her arms.

"What was that about?" Cassandra asked as she began to finger comb Jane's hair.

"That, my dear sister, was a pivotal scene for First Impressions."

Jane yawned and leaned her head back into her sister's capable hands. She was ever so tired and wished only to drift back into slumber. And she very well may have, lost as she was to the familiar sensations of someone dressing her hair.

"Your hair is utterly impossible this morning Jane. I do wish you would take more care. Especially when you know you have very good reason to want it looking presentable today."

Cassandra pulled her hands back quickly as Jane whipped her head around, unsteady on her chair.

"Friday,' she began in a whisper. "I'm not ready!"

She jumped up and behind the dressing curtain to begin her morning ablutions with haste.

"I've laid out your traveling dress and bonnet for you on the bed."

"You are too good to me Cass," Jane called from behind the screen.

"Of course I am," she replied heading for the door.

________________________________________________________________________________

The morning meal had been laid out especially earlier this morning in the front parlor for the ease of those traveling. They had a long day ahead of them, eight hours traveling by coach with a scant hour of refreshment when the horses needed to be changed. A good meal was important for their comfort. Or at least that was what Casandra had tried to convince her of. But Jane was determined that they should not chance missing their ride. After all it was she who had jeopardized their time table with her disordered morning. So she was happy to forgo eating to be on their way. She was in such high spirits that she felt no hunger, so it was no trouble to her in the moment.

Yet now, hours away from their next stop, her stomach protested loudly; drawing the attention of her sister, who had until that point been engrossed in a book detailing the flora and fauna of Devonshire. A pastime Jane shared no affinity for and was quite indifferent to her sister's interest. Besides she was far too excited to find any pleasure in reading. Which for her was quite nearly sacrilegious. But Tom did have a way of making her troublesome, or more so than came naturally.

"You were right."

"About what?" Cassandra asked without even looking up from her book.

"Breakfast of course. I should have eaten. Now I'm hungry as well as anxious. And did I mention tired? Because I'm that as well."

"Here," Cassandra said handing her an apple she magically pulled from somewhere about her person before going back to her book.

Knowing she was dismissed, Jane decided her best course of action would be to close her eyes and hope that sleep would find her. Never one much taken by vanity, even she could admit that she hoped some rest would have a positive effect upon her complexion. Which was looking quite harried due to the deprivation of adequate sleep.

Slouching quite unbecomingly she silently thanked her eldest brother's generosity for their private travel accommodations, closed her eyes, and fell asleep still holding her apple.

Blessedly the journey passed with little to delay them. Jane was refreshed from her nap and positively bouncing in her seat with excitement as the lights of the greater city came into view. The journey slowed to what felt like a stop as they hit the outskirts of town. London traffic was well known to all, yet Jane felt it was quite a personal blow. Such was her anticipation.

Another hour passed, in which Jane tried valiantly to convince Cassandra that walking would indeed get them their faster before they pulled up in front of the fashionable town home Henry and Eliza had taken for the season.

Jane's attention was caught by the glow of the lamplights as she stood poised at the bottom of the steps. Somehow all the fates had conspired in her favor and she was here. Here in London, and soon with Tom. Suddenly it all felt like a dream, too good to be real, to be true.

She was broken from her trance by her sister's gloved hand reaching for her.

"Come on you," she said. And pulling her along the sisters made their way into the house.

For a moment they stood alone in an empty foyer while their cases were whisked away with no more than a nod in acknowledgement. Just then their delightfully disheveled brother turned the corner with a wide smile.

"Henry," Jane cried, rushing to embrace him with all the gameness of a younger sister.

Jane inhaled deeply, relishing the familiar comfort of her brother's affection.

"Let me breath Jane," he rasped.

"And let me get a look at the two of you."

Henry chuffed her chin before bestowing a brotherly kiss upon Cassandra's cheek.

"So you've made it then," he started. He made a slow circle around them pretending to look very closely for what they did not know.

Seeming to find their persons to his satisfaction he stood once again in front of them.

"And I see no worse for the wear. I was quite expecting to find one or rather both of you harried into old age and infirmity after so long with those devils."

"Devils!" Jane and Cassandra asked in unison. Henry's face was serious and gave nothing away.

"The children of course," he scoffed. Earning a playful slap from Cassandra.

"They are angels and you love them just as well as we do."

"Of course I do, and should never say otherwise. Now let me show you to your rooms. My dear wife has happily informed me that there is not a moment to lose. Her dinner shall start at exactly half past eight and not a minute later."

"And just where is our dear cousin?" Jane asked as they followed Henry up the grand staircase.

"Finishing touches, and that's all I will say on that score."

The sisters gave him a suspicious look but all he did was smile. How very like Henry, Jane thought to herself.

"Here we are," Henry explained while throwing the door open.

"I know neither of you are opposed to sharing. And Eliza and I are just down the hall. If you need something just listen for the yapping. Pug is in a right state this evening, not found of company you see."

"Don't let you wife hear you," Jane called, already heading to unpack.

"I'm sure were just fine Henry. We will be with you both shortly."

Cassandra almost had the door closed when they heard Henry call out.

"Hurry up Jane. You wouldn't want to keep our old friend waiting."

Jane froze with the blue muslin in her hand, and deciding it was far to creased to wear anyway, chucked it at the door.

"Cassie, help me do something about this dress."

Their scant hour, to Jane, seemed to at once drag and fly by. Cassandra was a miracle worker and had her descending the steps looking far more presentable than she did upon arrival. Though Jane was thankful, it did little to ease her nerves. Her heart was flying wildly in her chest and she gripped the banister with shaking fingers. This was it, she told herself. She would see him any moment. Had he arrived?

Suddenly her excitement got the best of her and she rushed down the rest of the stairs in a very unladylike fashion. She went to call out to Cassandra to hurry up when she was distracted by raised voices coming from the side parlor. The doors were slightly ajar and she stepped closer, curious about the occupants and their apparent disagreement.

"I swear to you Kensington, the next time I lay eyes on that blaggard,"

She recognized the angry tone in her brother's voice and felt true concern for the gentleman he must have been addressing. Henry was such a genial fellow that whoever had offended him so must have erred egregiously.

She was standing right outside the doors now and would certainly be discovered any moment.

"Please do not judge him so harshly," an unusual tall man pleaded with him.

"I don't know why he is not here himself tonight. All I know is that after some mysterious message he took his leave of me suddenly and begged my help in explaining his absence."

"Yet you have delivered no explanation, nothing I can bring to my sister to soften this blow."

"Henry," Jane looked to him as the import of his words began to coalesce in her mind.

"What is going on?" She asked as an eerie calm began to settle over her.

He hardly needed to answer, his very expression told her all she needed to know. Tom was not here. He wasn't coming. He had disappointed her again.

"Why?" Is all that came to mind to ask. Her thoughts were swimming with the possible answers to that question.

"I don't know Jane." Henry had gone from angry to comforting in an instant. He took her hand gently though she felt little relief.

"Is he alright?"

"I believe so." The tall man answered her.

"He received an urgent message, I believe from the Judge. He was agitated but otherwise fine. He sent me to make his apologies."

"I see." Her tone was curt and she looked at nothing but the floor beneath her feet.

Feelings of grief welled up from within her and she felt as though she was back in the breakfast room of the LeFroy town home. How was it that she was thrown over again, after everything they had said to each other? What of the promises that were made? Loath as she was to think ill of him, this was a truth she could not deny.

He had been once again faced with a choice. And once again it was not her he had chosen.

Determined to bear this disappointment gracefully she took her leave of the company. She ignored Eliza calling to her. Truthfully she had not even noticed her appearance. Even her sisters offer to accompany her was rebuffed. Jane intended to be alone for the tears that were sure to fall any moment. With quick steps she hurried back the way she had come only minutes before, this time with an altogether different reason for her haste.

Once safely ensconced behind the closed bedroom door she allowed herself to feel. She sat down heavily upon the coverlet and allowed the tears to make silent tracks down her cheeks as she made a decision. This would be the last time she would cry over Tom LeFroy. Thus infused with a firm purpose she walked resolutely over to her case to retrieve paper and pen.

She would write to him, one last time.


	20. Twenty

There were a great many things in his life that Tom had cause to feel ashamed for; the drinking, the fighting, not to mention the women. Yet he felt little remorse for them compared to the things he had done to secure his and his family's financial comfort.

He had reminded himself often to be grateful for the opportunity his connection with his uncle had provided him. While his uncle's manners and opinions had been so decidedly different than his own, it was a small sacrifice to live under his roof and enjoy his patronage.

Tom had convinced himself of his own self-indulgence and had played the part well. So well he had almost become the version of himself that this life required. At least until he met the most beguiling creature, determined to taunt him until he was head over heels in love with her.

Now everything was for her. Now he would sacrifice in other ways. He was no longer willing to barter his self-respect. She had made him more than what he once was and he loved her for it.

The thought of losing her again was untenable. Yet he worried endlessly over just that. Had he jeopardized things with his actions a week ago? God only knew what she was thinking of him now. Had he finally convinced her that he was not to be relied upon?

Henry had implied as much during the brief and tumultuous call he made. He had of course missed her. Tom knew she would only be in town those two days. In vain he had tried to arrange things so that he would be able to see her. But it had become clear to him that he would do well to keep his own council and wait until things were settled to contact her. He would only distress her unnecessarily if he were to alert her of the current situation. And what good would come of her sharing his uncertainty.

At least that was what he had been convinced of days ago. After speaking to Henry he was beginning to believe he may have made a terrible mistake.

He massaged his temples as the pain in his head continued to grow worse. The cold food set out in front of him held no appeal. There were so many things to do, so many decisions that needed to be made. The stack of correspondence alone would keep him up hours yet.

He resisted the urge his curse his uncle, God rest his soul. The man would chose to die at the most inopportune time for his nephew. He was sure the old man was somehow satisfied to know that he had prevented Tom from seeing Jane.

"To you sir," he said raising his glass and downing it in one.

All the headache would be worth it in the end. He had no impediments now. Nothing to delay him or his plans any longer. No looming enemy to frighten and destroy his chances. Tom smiled to himself as he began to sort through the letters. His happiness was closer now than it ever yet been.

And what happiness it was, he thought to himself, as he found a letter addressed from her. His genial mood soon slipped into nothingness as he read her words.

"Shit," was all he said. He left everything else untouched in the dining room and stormed out.


	21. Twenty One

_My Dear Mr. LeFroy,_

_I do not know how this letter will find you._

_I confess to hoping it finds you ill with grief over our missed opportunity. But I am afraid that is most likely far from the case. T_

_here are times I am sure no two souls have ever been so connected as we._

_And yet, I am once again left bereft of your presence. You have given no explanation for this and I find myself indifferent to any possible reason you could have._

_You asked me to wait Tom, and wait I did. I would have waited forever if you had requested._

_But to be thrown over, again, because of your circumstances is too much._

_I was afraid of just this predicament when you rekindled our acquaintance with your first letter. Our union was not meant to be, and yet I allowed you to convince me otherwise._

_It is clear now. And I am sorry my friend, but I cannot continue on like this any longer._

_Please do not write to me again._

_In any case I shall not receive your letters should you chose to ignore my request._

_Goodbye,_

_Jane_


	22. Twenty Two

Mr. Austen, much like his daughter, enjoyed a bit of the ridiculous. People were an inexhaustible source of study and entertainment. His chosen profession in the clergy had afforded him with a lifetimes worth of study. Thus people had become very predictable to him. His life, though it had its share of difficulties, had become predictable as well. He prided himself on being such a man as to be unflappable.

Yet as he entered his small library intent on a quiet hour of reflection, the sight that awaited him came as a shock. Mr. Austen was at rather a loss for words as he stared at the figure of the young man who had caused such an uproar in his family.

What could he possibly be doing here? And who thought it was a good idea to let him in without a word? Mr. Austen's ire was up and it afforded him very little patience. Yet as he looked into the young man's face he saw only trepidation, and in spite of his own inclinations felt he must hear him out.

Gathering himself together he gestured, with as much good nature as he could reasonably be expected to have, to the chair opposite his desk.

"You had better sit down then."

____________________________________________________________________________________

Loath as he was to admit it, the young man's story touched him in a way he would not have expected. The bitterness of a father soon began to give way to keenly felt compassion.

He had certainly erred, egregiously so, in many respects. But as Tom spoke of his upbringing in Limerick and the family he held so dear, Mr. Austen began to find forgiveness in his heart.

Had he himself not brought about some degree of suffering to those he loved? Had he not chosen love time and again over practicality? He sympathized with the great burden a man may face when his heart and his duty are not aligned.

And Tom had made something of himself. Even before this untimely death, which so enabled him to be here today.

"So you must see Sir," Tom continued quite unaware of the older man's growing sympathies for him.

"I felt that to go to her in London and neglect the uncertain fate of my Uncle would have been a disservice to both Jane and my family. At the time I had just a learned of his stroke and had to rush to his side."

At this point Tom could no longer remain still. He began to pace the small library, growing more agitated by the minute.

"For two days and two nights my Uncle was teetering on the precipice. I felt it was my duty as his only family available to remain at his side, whatever we had thought of each other."

"And then with his death there was an endless list of things that must be set to rights. Not to mention my own affairs that could not be neglected."

Taking great care to appear calmer than he was, he made eye contact with Jane's father.

"I thought I was doing what was right," he confessed. "I was wrong. And now I fear I have lost her forever just when I am finally able to..." he broke off, slumping back into the chair.

"I have ruined everything."

Tom's posture was all but defeated, with his head in his hands.

"I do not believe it is as bad as all that."

Mr. Austen came out from around his desk and laid a fatherly hand on Toms shoulder.

"I don't claim to have any certain understanding of my daughter's heart. But I do know her character. She would never begrudge you an honest mistake if you only explained yourself to her."

"Thank you for your understanding," Tom said sincerely.

"When I received her letter I knew I had best make my apologies in person. I just pray she will give me the chance to explain."

"Of that I have no doubt," Mr. Austen began but was interrupted by a soft rap at the door.

"Excuse me a minute Tom."

Mr. Austen opened the door to Cassandra's nervous expression.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you, I didn't know you had company. But I'm worried about Jane. She went for a walk two hours ago and still hasn't returned and I fear it is far too cold for her be out so long."

"Where did she go?" Tom asked before Mr. Austen had the chance to utter a word. Concern suddenly coursing through him.

When Cassandra saw who her father's company was she was all astonishment.

"Mr. LeFroy!" she exclaimed.

"Whatever are you doing here?"

Tom knew he should explain himself but did not know where to begin. He just needed to find Jane, especially if she was in distress.

"Let's not worry about that now," Mr. Austen interrupted.

"Cassandra dear, where did Jane run off to then?"

It was a great testament to her concern for her sister that Cassandra was able to put her shock aside and answer her father.

"I thought she was just going be taking a turn around the house. But I went to find her and she wasn't anywhere to be seen. I imagine she's taken one of her longer walks."

"In February?" Tom was incredulous.

At his tone Cassandra fixed him with such a look as to make him hold his tongue. He had obviously said the wrong thing.

"She has been distressed as of late."

Try as she might Cassandra could not keep the censure out of her voice. How the man who had caused her sister so much heartache could be standing in their home she did not know. But her father was right, it didn't matter right now.

"We need to find her, and soon. I hate to cause any undue worry but I am concerned."

Mr. Austen and Tom both felt Cassandras worry and compounded it with their own.

"Do you have any idea where she might have gone?" Her father asked.

"She wanted to be alone. That much I am sure of. But which of her usual walks, I don't know."

Mr. Austen turned to address Tom. "I hope your wearing comfortable shoes, My daughter is quite the walker and we have our work cut out for us. I will head towards Overton and you can take the path through the wood."

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Having experienced heartbreak in summer and now in winter, Jane concluded that it was far superior to be thrown over when the weather was fine. The last few days had been particularly torturous. Mostly because the weather had confined her to the small rooms of the family home. Much as she had missed it, the familiar walls felt stifling to her now. She felt like she was suffocating and desperately needed fresh air.

When she had awoken, it was with an unbridled desire to be out of doors. Weather be dammed. It had been her intention, as she had informed Cassandra, to take a few turns around the house and garden. Yet after she had taken a great many deep breaths of cold air the idea struck her. And once it had taken hold she could not help herself.

Jane knew that going to that very spot in Selbourne was asking for trouble. It held so many memories. Memories so sweet, and yet, they would bring her great pain. Jane tried to scold herself for such masochism, but her heart was not in the reproach.

She needed to do this, needed to say goodbye. The ritual would be her one last indulgence. She would savor the memories, allow herself to grieve, then put them away safely behind her. Jane knew that she could not continue to live her life in the fantasy of what may have been. That was for her characters, for her novels.

As she rounded the bend in the trail so familiar to her she reached out with gloved hands to feel the sturdy strength of the trees. They who had witnessed her follies and yet would never speak a word of them. She would entrust them with her tears now as she had many times before as a child.

Coming upon the very tree so well known to her she paused. Removing her gloves she laid her hands against its bark and dropped her head, allowing the memories of their last passionate embrace to flow over her. Feelings so strong, that at the time she was sure she would drown in them. He had always done that to her. How silly she had been in her original opinion of him. It was so clear now how he had inspired such a reaction in her.

This was the kind of love she had always dreamed of. The kind of love that she would give to her heroines. She had lost that love but she would never regret it. Having never loved him was as unthinkable to her as not breathing.

She slid slowly down to her knees before settling her back against the sturdy oak. It was terribly cold but she was determined to stay where she was until the overwhelming sadness had ebbed. How wretched she must look now, all alone in the woods, taking comfort from a tree. The image she knew she presented was just absurd enough to bring a smile to her face.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When he saw her sitting quietly at the base of a tree he knew that his panic over her safety had been for naught. His Jane was many things, wonderful things, but a damsel in distress she was not. Yet his fear of her rejection was still a very real. So even though every fiber of his being was pulsing with the need to go to her he stopped. This was his third chance. It would also be his last, and how fitting that they had been brought together here. Each time he had met her in these woods before had been a great turning point in his life.

Many their first chance meeting here had played through his mind. At times he was astonished at his own previous behavior. But she had enchanted him. Jane upon a walk was far and above any other lady at a fashionable London party. How she bated and beguiled him.

Their second meeting here had been all the more momentous. He remembered well the need to be understood by the one he loved most in the world. And so he had come here to search her out. Wanting to assuage some small portion of the guilt, shame, and hopelessness he had felt. Of course he should have known that even a scant moment of time in her presence would overwhelm all his defenses. What were duty and honor when faced with the opportunity of the love of one such as her?

Tom lost all sense when he looked into her eyes and he understood that now. So he tarried for a few minutes longer to gather his thoughts. If she could no longer love him he would have to find the wherewithal to walk away. Though Mr. Austen had given him some cause to hope and he must try.

Slowly he stepped out of his concealment and took a few measured steps in her direction. Still she did not notice him so he decided to call out to her.

"I have heard there is much to see upon a walk," he began inching ever closer to where she sat.

"But so far all I have observed is the tendency to green above and brown below."

At this he raised his eyes to her uncertain if his fate.

"Tom?" She asked utterly confused by his sudden appearance and scrambled to her feet.

Jane could hardly believe the sight before her. How could he materialize out of thin air just when she was telling herself to let go? There was no way to make sense of the scene unfolding around her so Jane did what she did best.

"I have come to say goodbye to you Mr. LeFroy. How magnanimous of you to make the trip out to this desolate country to oblige me."

Tom felt each one of her words as a blow, and yet there was something unspoken. There was something in her eyes or maybe it was the slight upturning at the corner of her mouth. It was enough to draw him in a little closer. She had taken his bait and now they were sparing.

"As ever, your wish is my command Miss Austen," he answered in his most pleasing voice before sweeping a dramatic bow to her.

Her delicate bowed lips pursed at his display and he stifled a laugh. He continued his steady measured steps until he was close enough to touch her. But he held himself back from reaching for her. She would have to come to him if this was going to conclude in his favor. So he fixed his face into his most bland expression and waited.

Jane did not know whether to kiss him or slap him. She was infuriated with his nonchalance. How could he just stand there looking back at her like there was nothing so great between them? As the seconds ticked by locked in his gaze she began to struggle with her own disability to find the words. Jane believed there must be a perfect combination of words to reach him. He had to know what he had done to her, how he had hurt her. And yet all her gifts of eloquence had deserted her.

"I do not know what to say."

Tom was baffled by her confession. He was sure that this had never happened to her before.

"Well I have more than enough to say for the both of us. But," he dropped off and bent down to retrieve her discarded gloves placing them carefully in a pocket.

"But what?" Jane asked. Eager to understand some part of what was happening.

He didn't answer her, at least not in words. Instead he reached out and took her hands in his frowning slightly upon the contact. Offended at the sight of his expression she began to pull her hands back but he held them tighter.

"Your hands are cold," he said before bringing her left palm to his lips. His kiss was gentle and shockingly warm. It felt like snuffing out a candle. Before she could even catalog the sensation he was kissing the other, plunging her into the maelstrom of these feelings all over again.

Jane suddenly felt like she had imbued far too much wine and was leaning ever so much closer to him until their foreheads touched. Neither wanted to break the spell of the moment for many long minutes. After a time Tom knew it was up to him to bring her clarity. She knew nothing of how or even why he was here with her.

Deciding her hands were finally warmer he let them go in favor of cradling her face.

"Can you ever forgive me Jane?" He whispered knowing she would hear all he meant her to.

"I have forgiven you a great many things already Thomas LeFroy. But if you are here because you once again have changed your mind and wish to elope my answer will be no."

Tom couldn't help but smile when that eyebrow that he loved so much inched its way up her brow.

"I have so much that I need you to know, to understand Jane. But most important of all is that I had no intention of not meeting you in London." At his mention of it her posture changed and her shoulders stiffened. He had no notion of losing her so he stroked his hands gradually down her neck, lingering on her shoulders before wrapping around her arms.

"Jane my uncle has died. The night of our intended dinner I was called away from my office with an urgent message that my uncle had suffered a stroke. My presence was of course required."

"Why," she began but stopped herself and began to pull out of his embrace.

"Why didn't you say anything? A letter or a message. Why did you let me go on like this?"

The spell had been broken and she took several steps back from him. Tom felt each inch like a knife to his gut. He knew nothing but that he couldn't let her retreat from him, not completely.

"I was wrong, so wrong Jane. My own fears kept me from reaching out to you until things had been settled."

Tom could tell by her expression that she did not find his explanations sufficient.

"Common courtesy Tom; you could have sent a note explaining your absence."

"You are completely right, but instead I chose to keep my own erroneous council."

"It was a horrible decision then. Do you comprehend the situation you forced upon me? Do you have any idea what I thought, what I felt?"

Each ounce of anger and despair was seeping from her as she squared off against him. Her hands ached from clenching her fists so tight and her face felt hot.

"I cannot do his anymore Tom. It is too much to ask of me. I cannot be dragged here and there by your ever changing circumstances."

Her anguish broke his heart and he desired nothing so much as the ability to mitigate that pain. But there was nothing he could do other than tell her how he felt. To tell her what he was most troubled to admit to another.

"I was happy Jane, happy. Can you believe that? My uncle was on his death bed and my only thoughts were of the freedom his passing would afford me. His death meant the life I had been dreaming of. It is all I thought about and I was ashamed of myself for it."

Jane's righteous angry fled then as swiftly as it had come. For the first time it was she who reached out. Taking his hand into hers once more. She looked up into his face and urged him to unburden himself.

"What are you trying to say Tom?"

And so she listened patiently as he told her all. Not just the story of the past weeks but months of his actions were laid out for her. She had thought she knew, thought she understood him. Yet he was far more than she had known. The things he had done both noble and not, were part of him. And as much as she had previously believed she had accepted his past, it wasn't until now, when she saw what he had made of himself, that she was truly able to accept him.

"I wish you would not judge yourself so harshly. For my sake at least."

Her brought her closer and kissed her forehead before letting her go and taking a step back.

"I had this idea, Jane."

He squared himself in a way she had seen him do many times before, almost as if he was setting himself to some herculean task.

"Once it became clear that my uncle would not recover, that I would be inheriting far sooner than he or I ever expected, I imagined this grand reunion. I would have everything settled, my uncle's affairs and then my own. I would come to your home, ask to speak with your father, then when I had his blessing I would ask you."

"Ask me what?" The words slipped out before she could even attempt to hold them back.

"What I wish I had been able to from the beginning."

He stood in front of her now, closer than before. She could feel the heat coming off of his body. Or maybe it was just hers, she didn't know.

"Miss Austen, I have come to love you, most ardently. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"


	23. Twenty Three

_My dearest Cassandra,_

_I declare there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort. And that comfort is all the greater when the home is finally your own._

_You of course know I had never considered myself one for daydreaming about my future household like many a young girl. Yet I find myself quite contented. I wake most mornings still delighted to find myself a married woman and wonder often how I came to be so lucky._

_Since we have been home from our travels Tom and I have endeavored to arrange a new routine for the both of us. I have had ample time for my writing while he is at practice, and I plan to continue on in this way._

_First Impressions, while mostly complete, has taken a back seat to a new story I hope to send out for publication soon._

_Though Tom disagrees, I have decided that if I do manage to publish, it will be anonymously. I still have not forgotten the words Mrs. Radcliffe spoke to me on that fateful day._

_I know Tom fancies himself far more evolved than our general society but I plan to take things cautiously._

_We had a lovely dinner last night with our dear brother Henry and his bride. Both asked after you more than once. I assured them I would continue to beg you for your presence here in town as soon as you are able._

_Why you feel the need to stay with mother and father I will never know. I can only imagine how happy they would be, to be as close to alone as George's condition will allow them._

_My invitations will continue to come so consider yourself forewarned._

_Tom has just returned and I must cut this missive short. He always looks so surprised to still see me here when he returns each night. Silly man._

_Give my love to everyone._

_Your affectionate sister,_

_Jane LeFroy_


End file.
